Claire's Path: Resident Evil Two Meets Three
by S.T.A.R.S. Girl
Summary: What would happen if Claire, Leon and the rest of the RE2 cast met up with the RE3 people when Jill was infected? Please Read and review!
1. Arrival

The original "Claire's Path" got deleted by ff.net, and I am PISSED!!!! The chapter numbers are a little screwed because I omitted a note to readers, which may have been why it was taken down in the first place. Please bear with me. Anyway, enjoy!  
  
  
OK, here goes the drill: I don't own anything in here, Capcom does. I make no money off this, I only lose a few hours of my life writing it.   
If you read it, I'd like reviews. Thanx!  
  
  
  
  
Weird was the operative word, thought Claire Refield as she slowed to a stop on her Harley-Davidson outside a small diner. She looked around her. She was near the Suburban part of Raccoon City, and it was late. Maybe that was why no one was out tonight? she asked herself as she glanced around. The whole area looked dark, and felt as if no one was there any more, the way a house looks when its got no people in it. However, the diner was lit up, so there must be some staff in the kitchen, even if she couldn't see anybody through the glass. She locked up her motorcycle and headed for the diner.  
"Hello?" she asked as she pushed open the door of the diner, a small bell hung over the door-way announcing her prescense."Um...Is anyone here?" she felt tense. There was no sond at all; not even water in the pipes. Not even footsteps. It was as if time was something solid, or rather, as though it were like water someone had frozen so that it couldn't move. And even more unsettling, half eaten food sat on a few tables, and handbags were shoved against some boothes walls. Like everything had been abandoned. Like everyone had run.  
She took a step forward. "Hello? Anyone?" she asked again, her voice getting softer instead of louder. She suddenly didn't want to know. She was beginning to feel that if someone, anyone, something saw her, than she wouldn't be safe anymore.  
However, she kept walking forward until she turned a corner. "Uh..hel--"  
She gasped. In front of her was something that only existed in movies like Day of the Dead and Zombie. Or really not at all.   
It looked as though a man--well, not a man, really, but a vapid shadow of one--were eating a woman. The woman's hair was matted with gore and her eyes stared blankly towards the back wall. Sticky blood flowed over those eyes-dead eyes.   
The thing that was almost a man was tearing at her stomache, ripping chunks of flesh and kidneys and stuffing them into his mouth. His skin was white, his eyes were white. His body had dried blood splayed on it, and his skin hung off in thick, dry layers. He was rotting. But moving. A zombie.  
Claire didn't scream. Didn't even speak, for a moment. She backed up, and nervously said, "Hey..Hey! D-don't come any closer..." as the thing was now standing and moving towards her. "Hey...HEY!" She banged into a wall. The door out!  
She turned, only to see hordes of zombies clawing at the thin glass windows. "No--!" Claire cried, then turned to see another door. She didn't know where it went, but it was the only way out. She dashed for it, threw it open--  
"FREEZE!" a man's voice ordered her. She saw the nozzle of a gun, and drew her hands up to her face. "Don't shoot!" she said, closing her eyes, afraid the man would blow her away anyway. Instead he yelled "GET DOWN!"  
She let herself half-fall to the ground, and heard the crack of a shot being fired. Then the empty moaning of the zombie. She stood up, saw a man with hair near the colour of hers and wearing a police outfit.   
He offered her his hand. "We can't stay out here," he said, offering her a hand up. "Let's get to the police station--it'll be a lot safer."  
She followed him out into the alley-way, and towards a sqaud car. Around her she heard cries of the undead. She jumped into the car after him, and buckled her seatbelt on habit.  
hey sped off. Static came from the radio, and the man cursed about the radio being out. "Who are you?" asked Claire apprehensively. Maybe it hadn't been the best idea to follow this strange guy, but she hadn't had a lot of options.   
"Leon...Leon Kennedy. I came here to join up with the R.P.D.--you know, the Raccoon Police Depatment. This is supposed to be my first day on the job. Great, huh?" he asked sarcastickly, chancing a look at her as he negotiated the streets. "And you? Who are you?"  
"Claire. Claire Redfield. I came to look for Chris. My brother, Chris."  
Chris. Her brother, Chris. Part of the special S.T.A.R.S. Team here in Raccoon City. She looked out the window. Zombies--so he'd been right. A few weeks ago he'd called her, explained in his words the event at the Spencer Mansion. Ok, Chris. She had said. I see, Chris. She'd thought he was insane. Now she knew he wasn't, unless she was too. But where was he? She watched two zombies tear at eachother. Was he even still alive?  
"Chris?" Leon asked. "Chris Redfield? It sounds sorta farmiliar."  
"It should. He's in--Oh my God!" she screamed suddenly. "LEON! THERE'S A TRUCK COMING FROM BEHIND US! HE'S GONNA CRASH INTO US!"  
"HOLY--!" Leon pressed as far to the left on the steering wheel as he could, and pressed down on the brake. They tore off there seat-belts and kicked at the doors. As they got furthur and furthur from the patrol car, the 18-wheeler zoomed towards it, and made a devasting crunch sound when it hit it.  
Shockwaves hit Claire's back, and hot ash sailed past the side of her face. She crashed into the ground, and shakily turned around to see the huge tanker fallen to the side, crushing the car, the whole thing ablaze and sending off horrible heat. "L-cough-LEON!!" she screamed as loudly as she could, even though the purple-gray smoke from the collision burned her eyes and her mouth was so dry it felt like she was eating sawdust.  
Over the flames she could hear him shouting to her, telling her to go to the station. "I'LL MEET YOU THERE!" she called.   
Suddenly, behind her, came the sound of dragging feet. She turned, saw veritable crowd of the undead. She cussed, and her hand went to the knife on her shoulder by instinct. No, she thought suddenly. I don't think I should fight them. I can dodge them. They're slow! She saw a gap in the horde, and ranfor it, hearing the blood gush in her ears. Around her were smashed businesses, wrecked cars stacked on each other like bricks, and mangled bodies and scattered glass. Abandoned remnents of civiliazation.  
She came to a dead end, then turned and headed for an undamaged door. It was a gun shop the door belonged to, she saw. She clawed at the wooden entryway, and finally her sweating fingers managed to turn the slippery handle.  
Tingl-a-ling. A bell above the door rang again, as in the diner. She clutched at her knees, doubled over, gasping for breath. Each gulp of air burned her lungs, but at least she was alive to feel it. Finally she stood up-and stared down the barrel of a shotgun.   
A heavy man with black hair and suspenders barked at her. "Who are you?!"  
"I-I-I am..." she stuttered, shocked to see another human. "Claire Redfield..." she could have smacked herself. She shouldn't give out her name like this! But she figured it didn't matter. Rules of society didn't apply here.  
Finally, the man lowered the gun and met her gaze. His was even. "Kendo," he said. "Robert Kendo. I own this gun shop. And..." he came around from the counter, where behind him glass shelves were empty and shattered. "...Are you related to Chris Redfield?"  
"Yeah..Yeah, I am. But where is he? And what's going on here?!" she said, suddenly yelling. "I got here, and everything went--insane! Totally haywire!"  
"You've got that right," Kendo said, nodding grimly. "I don't know where Chris is. Hell, I don't even know what's going on here. But I do know that you won't survive long around here without a gun. Do you have one?"  
"No. I have a knife."  
"A knife? Honey, step outside this door with only a knife, and if won't be long before those undead mothers are stuffing an apple in your mouth and putting on a platter. Here," he said, handing her the shotgun. "I have another, so I'll be fine."  
She took it wordlessly, staring at him. "I--"  
Suddenly, she was caught off by a cracking, splintering sound behind her. The glass windows and wooden door were shaking, being torn apart and smashed. Hungry moans filled the small and cluttered store as gore-splattered zombies filed in.  
"Damn it!" Kendo screamed, then thrust Claire towards a metal door. "To the alley, we ave to run! At the R.P.D.--AUGGHHH!"  
She heard a thud behind her as she raced for the door, and screams. She turned, and saw the man fagged down by a few zombies. "Go!" he yelled at her. "If you find Barry...Tell him we can't go fishing after all." Suddenly a ghoul gripped hi neck and tore a good chunk out, and Kendo fell limp. Claire screamed, and shoved open the alley door.  
Cool night air hit her face. She saw a small dumpster ahead of her, but she ran around it. The shadows in the small stone alley were horrible, looking all gnarled, seeming to chase her. Hey, who knows, she thought. Maybe they are. Who knows anymore.... Her thoughts stopped abruptly when she felt a hand pull at her hair. She turned to her right, and saw two zombies banging at a cold steel gate that let t a basketball court, there hands reaching for her, their moans bounding off the alley walls. She backed away, thanking god the gate was locked. She raised her shotgun to point at them, but knew the alley went on. Why waste bullets when there might be another way out? She turned and fled ahead, the darkness obscureing her view. She collided with something cold, and her face smacked against it. "Oww..." she mumbled, looking up at what had hit her.   
A car door. KENDO'S GUNSHOP, it read. It was the back of a van. She clawed at the doors, and pryed one open. Inside were ragged card-board boxes, full of shells and clips. She dug threw themm looking for shotgun shells. "Damn! All for Glocks and Berettas...I'm not a S.T.A.R.S. member here..." She looked through to the front of the van, wondering if it was safe enough to spend some time in. Not really. The glass windows in the front led into the back. If she fell asleep....But she didn't really want to face the zombies in the basketball court behind her. She didn't even have more than the five rounds in the shotgun.   
Exasperated, she smashed an empty cardboard box with her hands, but stopped. KENDO'S GUNSHOP, the bottom of the box read. Tell Barry. Barry Burton, of S.T.A.R.S.? she wondered. She tried to think back to Christmas last year, when she had visited Chris here in Raccoon City.   
She remembered the faces of all the ALPHA Team members. Chris, Jill, Joseph, Brad, Barry. Yeah, he had been wearing a GUNSHOP shirt of some kind, Barry. All a sudden her eyes stung. Was Barry alive? Were any of them alive? She knew Joseph wasn't...the pressure behind her eyes built.   
Don't think about, she ordered herself. You'll find out later, when you find them. When you find Chris.  
She backed away from the truck, the world suddenly around here rematerializing. The bashing on the gate was geting louder, she realized. They smelled her. She shivered. She wiped her damp eyes, then raised the shotgun as she turned around. Suddenly, the gate crashed open. The undead shuffled towards her. She tried not to look at their faces. After all, hadn't they been someone? Well, she didn't know that for sure. She shot one, than the other, and the fell.  
And twitched. She twicted too, when she watched them.  
Calm down! Death spasms, that's all. She told herself. She stepped over their bleeding corpes, already very decomposed. She walked into the court, and saw a bench, graffiti-scarred walls, and a trashcan with a note tha remined her to keep the city clean. Everything was dirty.  
Well, maybe not so physically dirty as much as phycologically dirty. It all had the same unwholesome feeling covering it, like a layer of dust. So, in a sense, it was dirty.  
She walked through the court, and went through another damp, cold steel gate, this time unlocked. She ascended up an old green fire escape, her footsteps ringing out as though she were the only one in the whole city moving in an active way. It was so quiet here.  
Finally, the ramp ended and she jumped on top of a dumpster. It was gray and had old garbage bags hanging out of its partially closed mouth. It, too, had a notice reminding her to keep Raccoon City clean. Her eyes widened as she surveyed the alleyway ahead of her.  
A female zombie lurched toward her, her skin dripping with gitty blood and gore. Her arms were stretched out, and she was watching her with horrible white eyes. "What a clique!" Claire mumbled, shooting her with the shotgun.  
Some other zombies crowded the passage, but Claire didn't have enough ammo for all of them. She only had two shots left, and she figured she could dodge them if she was quick enough. So she sped past the stumbling figures and toward the next gate. She threw it open and a wave of heat hit her face.  
A bus was on fire in front of her, crashed into smaller cars. Glass ans plastic and steel covered the street. RACCOON CITY BUS NO. 33 it read on one side. "Does everyone crash in this town, or what?" Claire asked herself. But her body stiffened as she saw the group of zombies beside the bus, partially hidden by a bright red corvette, or what was left of it.  
They were near a small, desimated open-air cafe, filled with still bodies of people. The pack of undead were all hunched over, mouths tearing at something that looked like it had, at one time, been human. At least, the only untouched body part it had, a foot, was wearing a cowboy boot. "Oh...man..." she said softly, in a trance. There was no other way out of the area besides the way she had come, and she certainly didn't feel like retracing her steps. They were near the entrance to the bus, but they were slow...stupid....  
She dashed towards them, and swerved at the last possible second towards the bus door, snaping her limbs close to her so that the once-human creatures couldn't tear chunks out of them. She shoved on the bus doors, and fell through the entryway. She got up fast and headed towards the exit at the other end. Withered bodies of dead passengers sat on the seats beside her, some splayed onto the floor. Some mouths were open in silent screams or gasps. Eyes were open wide in surprise. Skin was punctered by thick debris. Claire forced down the gurgling in her stomach and burning, choking feeling in her throat.  
Finally, she reached the other end of the bus. She pressed on the other shot door, and fell to the ground, a chorus of moans greeting her. She looked up, to see flaming police cars stuck into each other and overturned. Burning zombies, their flesh rolling off in fleshy waves and driping down their bodies, reached for her. She didn't even think to scream. She got up and ran around them, zigzagging past their smouldering, animated carcases. Ahead of her was the one farmiliar thing she'd seen all day. The gate to the R.P.D.  
  
SECTION TWO  
THE R.P.D.  
  
She shoved the gate closed behind her, decayed limbs pushing through the bars and screaming dryly with rage. She ignored them, shut them out, and instead looked up at the huge building in front of her. This she remembered. This she trusted.  
She took a step forward, and gasped when she looked at the wall to her left. Bullet holes marred it. Rounds from a Beretta and a SIG Sig Pro. And something else; a smashed section, as though a huge fist had crushed the old bricks.  
But what did it matter now? Anything could happen here. Probably some people just like her, trying to stay alive. Maybe they still were. Or maybe they had failed and lost whatever battle they were fighting. She shrugged, despondently.  
She took a step into the courtyard like section in front of the building. She could hear the monsters bashing and clanging on the gate, wanting to be let in. She covered her ears with her gloved hands.  
She reached the front door and tugged it open. A huge, ornate door.  
A blast of fresh air greeted her. She smiled, recognizing the smell. The R.P.D. used to be an art museum, and it still had that odd smeel that exhibits have. Like old and new blended together. She looked around her.  
The same as she remembered. In front of her, a huge statue of a maiden bearing a water vase, carved in granite and with a weighty look. The woman had the same sad expression she had had last time.   
Behind that was a computer desk, where all the electronic stuff in the main hall was controlled. A ladder behind that led up to the second floor, and all around the first floor were doors leading off to different places.  
She walked down some steps and strided towards the door which led in the direction of the S.T.A.R.S. office, although it came after numerous hallways. Her heart was pounding and she was sweating beads, her breath coming in painful heaves, but her hopes rose as she put one hand on the handle of the door and turned it.  
It rattled. It was electronically locked.  
She reddened, anger burning her chest. Wait, Claire, she told herself. If it's locked, it could mean Chris is in there. Like a defense barrier. A barricade....  
For some reason, she couldn't help but feel as though the barricade was against her, even though she knew that was silly. She looked around at the other doors. One was to the right of the main door, on the same elevated ground it was on. Going that way could lead to the basement and the roof. Then she smacked her forhead. The other was a short-cut to the S.T.A.R.S.office.  
She ran for it, even though her body cried out in protest, her muscles unbearably sore. She yanked at the handle excitedly. The door swung open, and she stopped in her tracks, openmouthed.  
Compared to the quiet and tidy (albeit dusty) hall, this room looked as though it had literally been torn apart.  
It was the Western Office, she knew, where rows of cops desks and some offices were. But all the desks were overturned, scratched, out of place and covered with a smeared amber coat of something that smelled like blood. Furniture was torn apart, dripping with the same reddened amber, and lockers were smashed in and dented severely. Glass and papers crunched underfoot as she took a step forward, hands to her mouth, shoulders tense and her bodie was frozen in that pose. Her eyes were popping. "Wh...What??" she gasped, her voice cracking. "Ch-chris...!"  
A moan tore her out of her shock, and she aimed the barrel of the shotgun towards the noise. A black man. A real, living man. She ran and dropped next to him.  
"Are you OK?" she cried, already knowing that he wasn't. His stomach and abdomen were torn and twisted, his face contorted in agony. His clothes were soaked with darkened, blackish blood. "What happened here?" That of course, she didn't know.  
"Uhnn...I heard you say...Chris...." the man moaned. He looked farmiliar to her, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Melvin? Martin? "Chris...Redfield? Are you...Cla-Claire?" His eyes rolled towards her.  
"Yeah--but you have the advantage here. Your name--"   
She was cut off. "Marvin Brenaugh....Chris isn't here...He and the other S.T.A.R.S. members...J-Jill...Barry...Rebecca...Brad...They've all dissapeared...over two weeks ago...after the Spencer Mansion incident...."  
"I know that!" The blood rushed to her cheeks. "So you don't know where they are?! I've gotta find them! Chris...."  
"I don't...know....But you'd best escape if...you can....Unggh! But wa-wait...."  
"Hang in there!" she already knew it was hopeless, but she didn't like to think like that. Maybe there was a way. "What is it?"  
"Rescue the survivors, in the other rooms. Take this keycard...you can unlock the hall d-doors... Go--"  
"But I can't! You're bleedi--"  
"GO!" He aimed a handgun at her face. Standard issue, but strong enough to kill. "Ok," she said calmly. "But I'll come back." She backed up and walked to the door. It clicked behind her. Locked.  
She walked to the computer desk, and held up the silvery blue card. BRENAUGH it had engraved upon it in inpersonal black lettering. She sat down at the computer desk and entered the code on the card. An audible click from several doors rang through the hall from several doors as they were unlocked.   
The R.P.D. was open to her now. She got up and looked around her. Better head to the S.T.A.R.S. office first, she decided. I've gotta find out what happened to them!  
  
PART THREE  
THE S.T.A.R.S. OFFICE  
  
She went back to the door she had opened first, a tall wooden door with a thin frame. She tugged on it once again, and this time it slid open easily.  
A meeting room, she guessed, as she stepped inside. But she didn't really remember this place. A desk with a dividing wall, glassy boothes that led to another office, Wanted posters, and a bench podium and chest. Maybe she could ditch stuff in that chest.  
She walked past everything, but as she turned the other side of the wooden divider, her eyes caught sight of something darting across the window. She stood still for a second, then backed up a little.   
It was too dark to see clearly, she rationalized. There were zombies here, nothing more. Nothing more. Nothing more? Was she so sure? What about the impact mark outside where it looked as if a huge clenched hand has smashed the wall in? Was she so sure of anything now? Her head hurt. She wanted to curl up on the bench and pretend she was safe. But her adrenaline was pumping and she was scared out of her mind. Besides, she was realistic. And resourceful. She walked forward, next to the window, and turned the handle of the next door.  
A hallway. Dingy green paint separated from a harsh off-white by a boring divider made of something cheap. Columns smeared with dirt clung to the walls, and cracked windows showing nothing but blackness, rooftops and a pale, vapid moon. Next to her were broken carts filled with useless reports describing all manner of things from murders to accounting checks to pickpockets. Painfully slender chunks of glass were imbeded in a bulletein board and littered on the floor. She stepped over the largest piles and moved ahead, heart in her throat, strangling her.   
That something darting across the window. Was it waiting?...waiting....She could have smacked herself for thinking of it, for she began to shake nervously, sweat plastering her brown bangs to her face. She turned a corner and stared in horror at a police officer's headless corpse. The skin was the colour of sandpaper, and thick blood soaked into the gaps in the tiles under it. She shivered, her sweat going cold from the breeze coming from the windows. A rank breeze. Disgusting. Decay....  
She slowly became aware of a driping sound after a few minutes of staring at the dead man. A horrible sound that terrified her more than zombies, which in truth did not seem so frightening to her for some reason. Perhaps because if Chris could do it, she knew she could. Not because she was better than him, rather, because they were so similar. But the dripping made her back freeze up, her eyes stick to the corpse. She couldn't move.  
It was coming from the ceiling. A wet sound. An odd smell, the kind of smell that accompanies an animal hit on the road. But she knew she couldn't stare at the mutilated human forever. She raised her head--and a scream stuck in her throat, even though her mouth was open.  
A monster with a distubingly human form was crawling along the ceiling. It was almost like a person turned inside out, although alot of the muscle tissue was cloaked in thick scabs and crossed veins. It had no eyes, only empty amber sockets. Instead of hands, long distended claws scraped the plaster above her, and it shot an unbeleivably long tongue out of its mouth every few moments. Maybe it was like a snake, smelling the air, searching for the scent of prey. In any case, Claire didn't care as she watched its body sway rythmically, than still. It let itself fall, and turned perfectly in midair, landing on its underside. It paused, its tongue shut out, and it hissed. A long hiss, almost like a kettle boiling in its muted intensity. And then it screeched--so loud that cardboard boxes spilled behind her, and so shrill that she cried out and covered her ears as windows cracked even more. Stop! she thought. Or my head will--  
And then it stopped, and the thing was lunging towards her, claws outstretched.  
She screamed then, and clawed at her shotgun, aiming it at the approaching monstrosity. One shot it took in the head, and its neck made a horrible snapping sound. It stopped, shook itself. Then the hiss again, and it lunged, even though pink blood flew from its skull. No way! Claire thought, too shocked to duck. She held the gun in front of her like a lance, squeezed her eyes shut. The blood rushed to her cheeks again, but the rest of her felt weak.  
  
  
OK, if you've read this far, I would really appreciate reviews. Constructive criticism, whatever. I'll update it when I get a chance....But scary high-school entrance exams are coming up for me! Aggh! Thanx! ;)  
S.T.A.R.S. Girl 


	2. The STARS

She managed to pull the trigger, and she heard the thing squeal again. She opened her eyes and stared at it. It was shaking itself, and this time the discoloured blood was pouring out of its eyesockets too. One more shot should kill it. She squeezed the trigger one more time, and the thing let out one final hiss and fell, smacking into the grimy tiled floor.  
  
It thrashed for a few moments, its clawed limbs swirling and twisting in the air around it, but gradually it stilled. Claire stared at it. What had it been?  
  
She felt something rising in her stomache, and her chest tightened. I need to throw up, she realized. That was disgusting. I want my brother, I want to go home....  
  
She clawed at her throat, but the bile kept climbing, so she just leaned over. After a few minutes she wiped her mouth. I need to escape. I need to find Jill. I need to find Rebecca. I need to find Barry. I need to find Brad. I need to find my brother.  
  
She stood up. But were they even alive? She stared at the horrible monstrosity splayed on the ground in front of her. Don't look at it, she commanded herself, feeling her chest clench up again. Her throat burned.  
  
After another second, she stood up, and wiped her mouth again. She could feel her brown ponytail sticking to her neck, glued there with sweat. But she had the feeling that that demonical creature was piecemeal compared to the other things she'd encounter here....  
  
As she took a few more steps down the hall, she felt her hands shaking as they clutched her gun. C'mon, Claire, stay in control. She kept repeating this phrase to herself as she opened the next door. Would another of those tongue things be in here? No. It was another hallway, but to her surprise, the window side was boarded up completely, like a barricade. Maybe there really were survivors here!  
  
As she stepped over chunks of splintered wood, she walked past a double-doored room, but she knew it was just a Debriefing Room, not the S.T.A.R.S. Office. Besides, she didn't want to see more destruction than she had to right now. As she passed it, she saw the end of the hallway in sight. A single wooden door signaled the end of the passage.  
  
She opened it, afraid for a moment that it would be locked. But it wasn't, she thanked God that it wasn't. But she froze when she stepped through it, for she was literally surrounded by zombies. A red-haired woman and several policemen lurched toward her, mixtures of blood and saliva flowing out of their mouths and over layers of dried skin. She raised her handgun again, and backed up into a corner, so that she could see them all. She opened fire and counted how many bullets it took to down them all. Fourteen. Holy Christ, fourteen bullets. And she was running low on ammo. She looked around her now that all the former-humans were immobilized.  
  
Two doors down a mini-hall, the wooden one she had come through and a steel one that she remembered lead to weapons storage, files and lockers. At the end of the passage stairs going up and the door to a darkroom stuck under them. She remembered that the S.T.A.R.S. lockers were also in there. Jill's, Chris', and Brad's.  
  
But they needed keys, and the actual S.T.A.R.S. room was up those stairs. She moved towards them and ascended, her boots thudding on each step. As soon as she was up them, she walked past a carpeted room with a few weird, pysedo-religious statues in it and opened another door. Now she was in the dark hallway that led to her brother's office.  
  
She could see the entrance clearly now, a plain door with a paper taped up next to it that read "S.T.A.R.S. Office" in official-esqe lettering. She tugged on the door and it swung open.   
  
It was the same place she remembered. Four desks were lined up, back to back, with a space in the middle. Right now each desk had only one occupant, but they used to be shared by two people, one from the ALPHA Team and one from the BRAVO Team. A head desk was at the end of the room, under a huge S.T.A.R.S. Flag. It had been Wesker's, but since he had been killed at the Spencer Mansion, it was cluttered with old paperwork and had an abandoned feeling. Another desk by the door had been Enrico Marini's, the leader of the BRAVO Team. At the opposite end of the room, between a bookcase and a steel cabinet was the Information center that Ed Dewey and Brad had used. The desks in the middle of the room had been for Chris, shared with Ken Sullivan, Jill, shared with Richard Aiken, Rebecca, shared with Joseph Frost, and then Barry's by Wesker's desk, shared with Forest Speyer. Half of those people she knew for sure were dead. It hurt just to be in this room.  
  
She took a step toward Chris' desk, and saw his diary on top of a stack of CDs, books and half-finished reports. She picked it up. It was an ugly pea green, and she remembered teasing him about it being a diary, a girl thing. "It's official, Chris," she'd tease. "You're a freaking fairy. I mean, what grown man keeps a diary?"  
  
She unlocked the little gold clasp which didn't need a key, and flipped to the end of the book. Maybe she could find out what had happened....  
"I talked it over with Jill and Barry. We have decided to fly to Europe and attack Umbrella from there. Brad's at the S.T.A.R.S. Safe House on the edge of town, Jill's backup since she's decided to stay and investigate Umbrella's underground labs for a while longer. I have decided not to tell my sister because doing so could put her in danger. Please forgive me Claire."  
  
I forgive you. Now I know you're safe, she thought. But now how I get out of this? And what's happened to Jill and Brad? Where's Rebecca? She set the book back on the desk again. It was horribly cluttered, and she knocked an empty pepsi can off with a swipe of her hand. Than she turned around and looked at Jill's desk.  
  
It was cleaner, but it hadn't been used as much. Her computer was on, strangely enough, but a message was on screen saying that the Internet was inaccessible at this time. Great. Grand. Wonderful. Then Claire's eyes snapped to another diary on top of the comp--Jill's.  
  
This she didn't want to read through. She didn't know Jill as well. But what if there was some valuable information in there? What if Jill had left a message? She was about to reach out for it when a beep caught her attention from behind. The fax on Enrico's desk was buzzing, and some kind of document was coming out of it. She hurried over. Was it someone saying help would be there soon? Her heart sank when she saw that it was just some kind of boring official message answering an inquiry. But her face lightened when she saw it was to Chris.  
  
It was from the FBI. Subject: Brian Irons, chief of Racoon City Police. Ah, yes. She remembered him. At least, she remembered going out of her way to avoid him, at the S.T.A.R.S. member's urging. Actually, at every R.P.D. members she had talked to's urging. But no one had to advise her to stay away from that man. His horrible little piggy eyes, his fatness, the way his eyes followed her, everyone....She'd always felt he'd had problems. But more than that, he was a fucking lousy Police Chief.  
  
So what was this report about? She reached and grabbed at the pages as the fax spit them out, scanning the contents of each one. "Oh. my God..."  
  
Apparently, at Chris' request, the Feds had done a little digging. Irons was not only spawned on a damp locker floor, but he was also an intellectual rapist. When he was at the Raccoon City University, he had been charged with rape three times but had been dismissed from the charges because of his "phenomenal intellectual standing." He, she hoped at least, were dead. She shoved the papers in the sidebag she had, one made of pleather ("Fake, for the Animal's Sake," it read), and turned to exit the room.  
  
Before she opened the door, she turned around.  
  
Joseph.  
  
Forest.  
  
Ken.  
  
Enrico.  
  
Richard.  
  
Ed.  
  
Her eyes burned. She realized she was crying. They had been such great people. The best people.... She wiped her eyes. She wouldn't forget them. They'd have to live through her. And if the other S.T.A.R.S. members were still alive, then through them, too. Then she opened the door.  
  
A child's scream. "Help me!" Claire couldn't see clearly through her tears, but she could make out the figure of a little girl running from a lurching zombie. Oh my God! A kid! What the fuck...? She thought as she held up her Remmington. One blast from the rifle made the virus carrier go down, but she still had to go after the kid! Her eyes still stung, but she ran down the passage and banged opened an oval-shaped door. It was way too dangerous for that little girl to be alone! She'd die for sure! And Claire didn't want to see anyone else die.  
  
However, the little girl was no where in sight in the next room. Some kind of waiting room, she guessed. There was an empty drink machine by a cracked window, with stiff-looking green couches lining the walls and a broken magazine rack beside them. Thick wooden floor boards were under her feet. Hey, she thought. Is it my imagination, or do I hear....  
  
Footsteps. She grinned as she saw Leon walk out of a murky passage, but he didn't see her. "Leon!" she cried, her smile widening. She waved a hand at him, and they walked towards each other. I must look ridiculous, she thought, smiling when I'm still crying a little. But she didn't really care. Another person, another human being who wasn't dead, who still had feeling and could talk to her! Another human being who breathed and thought and was warm and alive and here with her. God, she was glad to see him. "Leon!" she said again when they were standing in front of one another.  
  
"Claire! You made it!" he said. He was smiling too, but not as widely. "Glad to see you're still among the liv--hey, have you been crying?"  
  
"Oh, yeah....I guess, a little." She dabbed at her eyes. "Chris isn't her. But it's nothing, I know he's safe...."  
  
"That's great. Listen, did you see--"  
  
"A little girl go running by you?" Claire finished for him.  
  
"Yeah. You just missed her: a blonde little girl in a school uniform. She had some kind of fancy necklace. It's too dangerous here for her!"  
  
"I know. Leon, I'll go look for her. You go find us a way out of here!"  
  
"Of course. But before I forget--" he brushed his reddish-brown bangs out of his eyes and unhooked a walkie-talkie from his belt. She saw he also had a spare one. "--so we can keep in touch. Are you sure you're all right? I mean--"  
  
"I'm fine," she said, grabbing the radio. "I'll call you if I'm in trouble....God, it's all so weird, isn't it? I mean, I loved horror movies as a kid. I always thought that if I were there, I'd do this or that, that I've have no problems getting away. But now, I'm so scared. It's like I don't know anything."  
  
"I know what you mean. It's like no rules apply here. Like there's no structure. Listen, Claire--the girl went through a boarded up door at the end of that passage." He gestured towards where he had come from. "There's no way we can follow her. I think we just have to search the R.P.D."  
  
"Yeah, you're right. But...Leon, I think there are still other people somewhere in this city! Jill...Brad...Rebecca--"  
  
"Who?" Leon asked, his expression becoming confused. "Who are they?"  
  
"They're S.T.A.R.S. members. I just came from their office. I think they're in town somewhere. Could we--"  
  
"Claire. We can't go outside again. The streets are crawling with zombies! Just look out the window! Go on, look!"  
  
She glared at him, but walked over to the window and pressed her forehead against it. "Jesus," she muttered, her eyes widening and her mouth hanging open. There were so many of them. It looked like the streets were alive!  
  
"You see? And Claire, if they're S.T.A.R.S. members, we just have to trust them to get out on they're own. They're professionals."  
  
Forest was a professional. So were Joseph and Richard and....Her thoughts turned bitter and her face darkened. She turned away from the window though, and decided she didn't want to argue. To some extent, he was right. They had survived the Spencer Mansion. They were probably having more luck than she and Leon were, she told herself. At least, Jill must be. Rebecca was still a rookie and Brad was mostly a coward. She still hoped they were all right....  
  
"Alright, you win. We have to trust them....I'm going to go look for the girl. I'll radio you soon." She smiled sadly. "I really hope they're OK."  
  
Leon nodded. "Just trust them. I'm gonna go look for some escape route."  
  
They walked in opposite directions, she to a door nearly hidden by a boring gray wall, he to the door she'd just come through.  
  
She walked into a library. She remembered this place. Book shelves were everywhere, even a stairway to her right led up to more bookshelves. Yes, she remembered it here. She also remembered there was nothing upstairs useful, just the way to the gears for the clock on top of the R.P.D. She walked to the door leading out onto the landing looking out over the main entrance into the station, the huge room she had walked into when she first came inside the building.   
  
On the landing there were more zombies than in the hall with the darkroom. "Oh, shit!" Her remmington had one shot left and her handgun had only one left as well. Her knife was, as Kendo has said, sure death. She didn't doubt that now. She looked ahead of her. There was no room to get around the zombies, and three of them in a line were shiffling drunkenly towards her. "G-get away!" she knew that was hopeless. They couldn't hear her, could't reason. But she was still pleading with them. "Get back! No! Please! Stay away! Get back!" She shoved her shotgun in front of her like a shield. She waved it at them. "I'll kill you..." she knew that was stupid, too. They were already dead. Damn it! she thought. I can't die like this!  
  
She closed her eyes and heard...shots! A gun being fired! She opened one eye a little, and saw all three carcases slumped in a row in front of her. Who?? "Leon?" she called, looking around her. No one--wait! Across the building, she could see someone dissapear into a wooden door. Not Leon, se was sure. It was someone smaller. "Wait!" she gasped, but she knew the apeal was too quiet to be heard. She dashed over, around the looping railing, towards the door. She tugged at it and it swung open.  
  
Another waiting room. This time it had fine wooden walls, bookshelves, a secretaries desk....But the same stiff couches, the same crisp atmosphere. And--oh!--another one of those chests. She wondered for the second time if those would be a good place to stash stuff. There was a door across the room, and she moved for it. But then a glittering object caught her eye. A lighter! She grabbed it. No doubt that would come in handy.  
  
As she placed a hand on the doorknob, she instantly recoiled. It burned! Her hand was bright pink, and she held it at the wrist, biting her lip. A fire! But how bad? It wasn't hot enough to be on the other side of the door. Threr was no smoke coming through the bottom....She looked around and saw a jacket hanging off the back of the secretary's chair. She could open the door with that. She wrapped her hands in it and pulled it open.  
  
There was smoke coming from around the corner, and it made her face itch. But what scared her more was the moans coming from around that same corner. Her eyes watered and she held the jacket to her mouth. This was pretty bad. She stumbled backward, and remembered that there was another door this way. It led to a hallway which led to either offices or the roof. This was her best bet. She didn't want to retrace her steps.  
  
As she groped for the other door she thought of the little girl. I hope she stays away from here, Claire thought. I hope she's still alive. She finally found the other door and pushed it open.   
  
Now the air was cold, desperately cold. The jacket had a little soot on it but she put it on. It was plain with a basball tee look. She marveled at how fast the air had changed. What was wrong with this place?!  
  
She walked ahead. A steel door in front of her lead led to some offices. Furthur along the hall was a path to the roof and the helipad. She knew there was also a way down from the roof, to the R.P.D.'s garage entrance and gaurd cabin. Maybe there would be more ammo there. Maybe there'd be Jill. Or Brad. Or Rebecca. So she chose the roof, and walked quietly in that direction.  
  
She knew it was more of a risk becuase 1. It led outside, to where the undead masses were, and 2. Because it didn't garrenty her a way back into the main part of the R.P.D. But she had to choose it on the off-chance that it would lead her to another human being. Maybe even the person who had saved her on the landing.  
  
She reached a long row of windows. It was then she realised that her adrenaline was really pumping, how truly terrified she was of those windows. She didn't know why, but she wanted to get away from them. Her fear was justified as first one wondow cracked, a long line through the center, than another. Then another.  
  
She backed up as they all suddenly broke, and wisps of black flew through. Crows, she realised. A flock of crows. They rushed at her. Oh. my God, she thought. Like Chris said--these are the same kind of crows that killed Forest.... 


	3. Escape from the RPD

Alright, I'll give you guys the drill again....Of course I don't own anything here. Capcom is the rightful owner of everything. And forgive me if there are any inconsistanties between what is written here and the actual RE3 game. I've never played it, I've only read transcriptions. I figured it would kinda depress too much to see Jill and Brad suffer like that, but then I've always thought it would be so cool to see more of Raccoon City....So I'm of two minds about. And Carlos isn't a bad bonus either....Oh well. See you Again.  
  
P.S.-if Sherry seems like she's nodding a lot, she is. I ran out of ways to make her agree. Go me....Yeah right. S.Y.A.  
  
  
  
She gasped as they burst through the glass, lunging at her. She ran forward, hoping she could avoid them. They whirled around her; she could feel them dive at her. But each time she dodged just right, until she finally reached the plastic door that led to the roof.  
  
She slammed into it and it flew open, a blast of fiery air coming from a crashed helicopter greeting her, then swung closed behind her. She leaned against it, hearing the angry caws of the dead birds within. She wondered why they didn't try to follow her through the broken windows; perhaps they were waiting for her to come back. She shivered, then let herself fall forward onto the pavement of the helipad, gasping for air. It wasn't that she had run that far or fast, but that she was so terrified she hadn't breathed the entire time. She put one hand on her knee and stood up.  
  
The helicopter was completely totalled. It had plummeted into solid concrete, although it had, by some miracle, missed damaging the water tower even though it had crashed directly under it. The sparks still flying from the steel skeleton threatened to catch her clothes or burn her skin, so she moved back a little, watching the purple columns of smoke pour from the wreck, the fiery orange plumes of fire engulfing it all. She watched it for a few moments, the scene reflected in her blue eyes, and then she unbuckled the radio from her belt. She shoved the switch to the "On" position.  
  
"Leon," she said into it. "There's a helicopter wreck on the roof. I don't think anybody's alive."  
  
"Claire? Is that you? Are you sure there are no survivors?" his voice answered back.  
  
"I'm sure." She watched as amber-orange flames climbed higher into the sky. "Everything's screwed up here. Listen. This fire is huge. I have to find some way to put it out. I'll radio you when it's done."  
  
"Claire! Wait! Wait for me, I'll come help you!"  
  
"No, I can do this. The helicopter will never fly again, so you have to keep looking for some means of escape. I'll call you back when I can, OK?" She switched it off before he could say anything else. She hoped he wouldn't be able to find her. After all, he was a rookie, so he probably wouldn't know his way around. She glanced over at the rusted metal fire escape to the side of the building and moved towards it. She didn't know why, but she wanted to do this alone. After all, she was a little scared that Jill or Brad or Becca had been in the copter.  
  
As she decended the stairs, she heard moans below her. Oh, great. She stopped midway down and glanced below her. A few loose zombies were congricating below her, clawing at the bottom of the stairwell. "This is just perfect, I mean, my life has reached an all-time high. Can't wait to tell the folks back home all about my zombie-smashing skills..." she was holding her Remmington, but with only one shot it wasn't really any good. The undead was now huddled in a small group, waiting for her. Well, she thought, at least they can't climb stairs....  
  
She looked back around the roof, saw that there were no provisions. If only she had a clip...She wondered if she should call Leon now after all, have him come help her. But then, she thought, smirking, ol' Leon wasn't perhaps very bright....  
  
She decided she could hop over the edge of the stairs two floors off the ground and run for the guard cabin. The zombies were slow and dragged their feet-there was no way they could catch her. So she skidded down the rest of the way and hopped over, since the second rise up wasn't very high anyway.  
  
She landed allright and made a dash for the cabin. She could see it even though the smoke from the roof still billowed over the moon, and there were no stars at all in the sky. Streetlamps cast a neon-gold glow over the sidewalk, so it was still illuminated.  
  
She reached the cabin door and slammed it behind her when she was in. She wondered vaguely how all the power was still on. Maybe there was some weird backup reserve she didn't know about....  
  
She looked around the cabin. To her right was a small space cluttered with broken machinery, a few grungy lockers and a faintly humming device she didn't recognize. She walked forward towards a desk and a door at the other end. On the desk was a type-writer and a folded newspaper, and hung over it was an Asian pin-up calender. She smirked.  
  
She yanked at the drawers in the desk, hoping they had some kind of ammunition in them. Most of them were locked solidly, but one she managed to get open with a lockpick she had. Inside was one handgun clip. "Oh, well," she mumbled. "Better than nothing."  
  
She gave one last glance around the cabin, and then turned her attention to the other door. It was as dirty as everything else inside the filthy little guardhouse. But then, of course cleanliness didn't matter. Not here. Nothing mattered here except the fundamentals. Eat. Sleep. Live.  
  
She dragged that door against the metal floor. It didn't open easily, like the edges stuck. She looked up. This was the back-entrance to the R.P.D., and also to the garage. A few empty squad cars were parked by the way in, but a heavy metal chain-lock covering had been pulled over the drive-in entrance to the garage. She wondered for a second if anything useful was in those cars. She strided over. After all, they had belonged to cops, hadn't they? But then, it was entirely possible there was nothing, that the survivors had taken it all to fight their last fight....  
  
The first car was wrecked inside, the glove compartment hanging open with road maps spilling onto the floor and old food on the dashboard. The second car she tried unnerved her more than the first one, because it was strangely clean and normal. And any normality here was suspicious.  
  
She walked over the third car, which was parked directly parrallel to another. R.P.D. RESPECT PROFESSIONALISM DIRECTNESS it read. And then 9-1-1 FOR EMERGENCY'S. Just like the other two, but as she was reaching over the tug at the door-  
  
"No! Help me!" the same high-pitched child's voice came from within. Claire looked up to see a blonde little girl huddled against the other window. She was wearing a school uniform of some kind and had, indeed, a fancy sort of pendant around her neck. It looked like it opened. Claire couldn't help but wonder what was inside. The little girl's face was contorted in terror, her eyes wide and her teeth digging into her lips. She looked like she was crying.  
  
"I'm not going to hurt you, I promise," Claire said through the glass. "I'm not a zombie, you see?" She waved a hand at the kid.   
  
"You...promise?"  
  
"I promise. Now come on out of there."  
  
The little girl scooted across the seat and unlocked the door. She shoved it open as Claire moved out of the way. She was indeed crying, and when she stood up Claire marvelled at how short she was. "Who are you?" She asked.  
  
"I'm Claire. What's your name? And what are you doing here?"  
  
The little girl put her hands behind her back and rocked on her feet a little. "Sherry. My mommy called me from work and told me it was two dangerous to stay at home...that was a week ago. Now I don't know where she is, or my daddy either...And I'm scared...there was a huge monster chasing me!"  
  
"A monster? You mean like a zombie or one of those...things...with long tongues?" She put a hand on Sherry's shoulder. There was no way a huge monster was chasing her. Sherry was just scared out of her mind....right?  
  
"Its got gray skin and wears a gray jacket...its got no hair....But I know its coming after me!" She put her hands on her cheeks. "Its been chasing me ever since I saw those people out front!"  
  
"'People?'" Claire asked. Did she mean survivors? The S.T.A.R.S. members.... "What did they look like?"  
  
"A man and a woman. Out front. An even bigger monster was chasing them. It had an eye stapled shut. Even scarier than the one following me....The woman was wearing a tube top, that was blue....And a miniskirt. The man had on some kind of army clothes-a yellow vest I think. Why?"  
  
Claire's eyes widened and her pulse quickened. She couldn't believe it! The man had to be Brad. And if Brad were there, chances were the other person was Jill or Becca. Oh, it was probably Jill, she thought, remembering the message in Chris' journal. "Brad's at the S.T.A.R.S. Safe House on the edge of town, Jill's backup since she's decided to stay and investigate Umbrella's underground labs for a while longer...."  
  
"What happened to them, Sherry?" she asked. She knew she was probably clenching the girl's shoulder too hard, but she really had to know. "They got away, didn't they? They ran? Or they killed it?"  
  
"They ran...I don't know where. I haven't seen anybody since then, except for Marvin." Sherry lowered her eyes. "But he's turning into a zombie. So I haven't seen anyone all day besides you. Claire, I want to leave! We need to get out of here!" She seemed exasperated now, as though Claire was an idiot not to know all this already, as though she was waiting for Claire to give her the OK for them to run from here.  
  
"We will, Sherry. My friend-Leon-is looking for a way out. Give me a second so I can call him and tell him I found you."  
  
"You were looking for me? Oh, you were the person...who came out of the S.T.A.R.S. office, weren't you?" Her eyes met Claire's. They looked a little confused.  
  
"That's right."  
  
"You were crying."  
  
"I was. Hang on a second." She unhooked the walkie-talkie from her belt again and clicked it on. "Leon," she spoke distinctly into it, "I've found the girl. Her name is Sherry. Look...How are you for ammunition?"  
  
"Claire? Oh, I'm good for ammo....I've found this woman, Ada. She's looking for her boyfriend-"  
  
"Leon, listen to me. Ask Ada if she knows the layout of the R.P.D."  
  
There was a pause, distorted voices coming from the background. "She says yes. She's visited here before. Why?"  
  
"Look, come out back to the guard cabin. Tell her that. Come meet me here or....No, look, what I mean is that I don't have any way of putting out the chopper fire, and it could really burn down the whole place. If you come out here, we can try moving out through town."  
  
"OK, I'll tell her, if you think that's a good idea..." A longer pause. For some reason Claire held her breath. Then-"OK, we'll meet you there. Or are you going to go on ahead of us? It'll take us around fifteen minutes to get to you. But wait, Ada wants to know why we're leaving-"  
  
"Wait, say we're looking for S.T.A.R.S. members. Sherry says they are in the city."  
  
"S.T.A.R.S. members huh? OK, I'll tell her." Yet another pause. "She says that's great."  
  
"OK," Claire said, looking at Sherry. "I'm going to go on ahead. Radio me when you get down here and I'll tell you which way we went. Remember. Be careful."  
  
"OK, you too."   
  
She switched her radio off and offered Sherry a hand. "Here, stay close. If we get separated it would be really bad. But I promise I'll protect you if you stay by my side. OK?" The little girl nodded and took her hand. They moved towards the gates out, and Claire could see that on the other side their were zombies wandering aimlessly around. "OK, Sherry, get ready to run when I open the gate...We're going to go..." Cars and police barricades were all smashed together in front of them, but she saw a gap they could get through. "Through there. See that spot in the wreckage?" Sherry nodded. "Alright. One..." she reached for the gate. "Two..." she opened it. "THREE!"   
  
They both of them dashed for the hole in the destruction, and when they were past a more or less deserted street greeted them. "Keep runnin'!" Claire screamed, and they sped down the darkened road. They took several turns, Claire noting them all so she could explain them to Leon and Ada. Ahead of them she saw some kind of warehouse. "THROUGH THAT DOOR!" she pointed to where it was open. They raced inside and stopped, seeing that they're weren't any zombies in sight. Except....  
  
"Sherry, cover your eyes." A mangled corpse lay on the ground in front of them. From what was left of the head, it looked like an older, blond-haired man. Although his broken ribs stuck out from the torn stomache, he looked like he had been heavy. He wore a maroony-amber jacket of some kind, scraps of fabric clinging to a disconnected limb. "OK, Sherry, follow where I go by my hand...." She led Sherry forward, then caught sight of a trailer. Was there anyone inside? She had a bad feeling about it, so she decided she'd just pass it up. She felt her chest tighten when she looked back at what was left of that person, and she had to tell herself to keep looking ahead. She paused when she saw they could stand at the other end of the trailer and rest a second. She led Sherry that way. "You can open your eyes."  
  
Then her radio buzzed. "Claire? Can you hear me?" She unhooked it. "Yeah," she said. Then she gave him detailed directions as to which way she had gone, finishing with this warehouse. "There's some guys body in here. Totally mutilated. Look, I can't wait here. I'm going to go on ahead again. You call me when you get to this place...."  
  
"OK, I will. Be careful, as always. How's the girl?"  
  
"Hold on." She bent down and smiled at Sherry. "How are you doing?" she asked cheerily.   
  
"OK, I guess. It smells funny here." Sherry put a hand over her nose. Yes, it does smell weird here, thought Claire. But its just the smell of death coming from that man. God, it smells like dried blood in here...."She's OK, she guesses," she spoke into the walkie-talkie. "Look, radio me later."  
  
"OK. Ada's fine. Damn crows almost got me, though. Thanks so much for the warning."  
  
Claire grinned. "What, they didn't train you for this at the Police Academy? Or did you just sleep through it?"  
  
"Oh, very funny," Leon's voice said, but she could hear him laughing a little. "I'll meet up with you later."  
  
"Good." She shut off the radio. "OK, Sherry, lets get out of this warehouse." Sherry nodded, and took her hand, although she still kept one over her nose and mouth.   
  
They walked out of another door, and the smell immediately dissipated. Claire sighed. She heard Sherry go "Phew!" She looked around, wondering where they should go next. Then her eyes widened as she saw smoke rising in the distance. It looked like it was coming from the foot of some kind of church-she could make out a tower with bells. She could see the glow of fire, too. Maybe there were people who needed help over there.  
  
"Sherry, can you see that smoke?" She pointed towards it. Sherry nodded. "We're going to run to there. It may look scary, but I bet there are people there. OK?"  
  
Sherry nodded. She wiped her forehead, which reminded Claire of how much she was sweating, too. She tugged at her bangs, and realized they felt like they were super-glued there. God, she'd have to take a hundred showers if she ever got out of this...."Well, lets go. Stay behind me, OK?"   
  
"OK, Claire. I'll stay right here."  
  
"Good. Come on."  
  
They began walking in that direction. The night air was tainted with all manner of rancid smells, but both girls realized they weren't smelling them as much anymore. Claire made notes of which streets they were walking on, which way they were going. As they neared the church, or whatever it was, it began to rain. Claire figured that she could still see the belltower, so they didn't need the smoke as a hint anyway. "Sherry, are you cold?" she asked when she saw her shivering. "A little." The girl answered. "Here, take my 'Made in Heaven' overshirt." She handed it to Sherry. "My goddess will protect you," she said, smiling. Sherry smiled, too.  
  
Finally, they came into the place's courtyard. The skeleton of a helicopter and some debris were scattered around. A small graveyard was there too, moss covering the flat inscriptions. A tall angel held out her arms to the girls. Her face had no expression, but the statue had no mold on it, either. "That's not your angel, is it Claire?" Sherry asked. Claire grinned. "No, its n-"  
  
She stopped when she heard a gun click behind her. Someone was aiming at them. "Don't move," a Spanish-accented voice commanded them. "Who are you? Don't turn around."  
  
"My name is Claire Redfield," she said, panic rising in her chest. Don't shoot us! She thought. Where was Leon? Why hadn't he radioed yet? "The girl's name is Sherry...."  
  
"What are you doing here?" she could hear how exhausted the man was. "Where did you come from?"  
  
"We came hear when we saw the smoke," she answered, worrying more and more about Leon and Ada. Were they dead? Her eyes burned. Don't cry, she commanded herself. Chris wouldn't. "We thought you might need help. We came from the R.P.D. Originally I came to find my brother, Chris. He's with S.T.A.R.S."  
  
"S.T.A.R.S.?" she could hear the man's voice lighten. He was surprised. "He was with S.T.A.R.S.?" Claire nodded her head a little. "Turn around," the voice told them. "Slowly."  
  
That's sort of a cliff-hanger, right? Well, maybe not, you all know who it is....hehe. If I got any RE3 stuff wrong, don't hesitate to tell me. And as always, if you've read this far, plz review it! See you Again guys! 


	4. Meeting up with Carlos, Jill and Brad

I don't own anything here. Capcom does. Remember, Claire doesn't know about the G or T Viruses because I pulled her out from the R.P.D. really early in the game. So bear with her if she only knows what Chris has told her. Thanx. See you Again!  
  
  
The man had longer than usual black hair and tanned skin. His shirt said he was with the U.B.C.S., whatever that was. "Chris Redfield." He said again. "Sounds familiar."  
  
Claire studied him for a second, then held up her hands. "That's right, Chris Redfield. I...I'm looking for Jill Valentine, Brad Vickers and Rebecca Chambers." Sherry clutched at Claire's belt, eyes wide. Her hands were shaking as she stared at the barrel of the gun.  
  
The man stood openmouthed. "Jill? You're looking for Jill? And Brad?" He looked at her in disbelief. "...Come with me. We'll see about this. Walk in front of me. Remember, this gun is trained on you, so nothing out of line, chica."  
  
Chica? Whatever, Claire thought as he prodded them towards a large door. "Open it," he said, and Claire did. It smelled musty inside, but ahead of her she saw someone lying on a pew that had been moved to the front. It looked like a woman. Standing over the woman was a man. "Carlos?" he asked. "Who are they?" Wait--that voice--  
  
"Brad!" Claire said. "It's me-Claire! Don't you remember?" she waved a hand at him. "At the Christmas Party--last year--"  
  
"Chris' sister! You're alive? You're here?" Brad moved towards them. "Who's she?" he pointed at Sherry.  
  
"I found her in the police station. Who is that...Are they hurt?"  
  
"Wait. I'm missing something here," Carlos said from behind Claire. "Who is she to you guys?"  
  
"She's a teammates sister. If Jill could, she would vouch for her too." Brad answered.  
  
"Jill? Jill's here?!" Claire gasped. "Where?"  
  
"She's up there," Carlos pointed to the figure resting on the pew. "She's infected."  
  
Infected? With what? Claire thought. She knew that Chris had told her all the monsters they'd encountered had really been test subjects, carriers of some kind of virus. But did that mean that everything in Raccoon City was....Chris had told her it was all Umbrella's fault. The pharmaceutical company was really dealing in Biological weapons, that it created them by using mutigenetoxins to play with their DNA and turn them into hideous creatures. And the zombies were what happened when the virus' spread wasn't monitored....But Jill....  
  
"With what? She's infected with what?" Claire breathed. "I don't know what you're talking about..."  
  
"The T Virus. The same thing that was at the mansion she's always talking about. That thing infected her when she fought it," Carlos said again. "She's infected."  
  
"Wait, she doesn't get it. Claire, look. I assume Chris told you about the Spencer Mansion incident? And it must have sounded like pure insanity, but..." Brad said.  
  
"He told me. You ran away. How do you know?" Claire could feel Sherry sqeezing her hand.  
  
"Yeah, I ran away." Brad looked embarrassed. "But they told me what happened....Look, ever since Raccoon City turned into this hellhole, this huge creature has been chasing us. It wants the S.T.A.R.S. dead. Obviously, it was sent by Umbrella. All this is their fault. Everything here is their fault....Anyway, this-thing--looks human-esqe. It wears a trenchcoat, and under that it has...tentacles. Jill was fighting it when one of them punctured her shoulder. So she's infected with the T Virus, because that bastards a carrier."  
  
"What do you mean....This is Umbrella's fault?" Sherry asked suddenly. "What is....What are you talking about? Viruses?" Claire looked down at her. Her voice sounded so small and tired. "My parents work for Umbrella...."  
  
"Carlos works for Umbrella too. It doesn't mean he's a bad person or anything. I mean, Umbrella experiments on their own people." Brad said.  
  
"What kind of experiment is this?" Claire asked.  
  
"I don't know," Carlos cut in. "But its been the death of this city."  
  
Just then a buzz from the radio cut them all off. "Claire?" a voice came through, but not Leon's. "This is Ada. Can you hear me?" There was a lot of static, but Claire unhooked it from her belt and spoke into it: "I can hear you. Where are you? I thought you guys might be...." She trailed off.  
  
"No. We are still in the R.P.D. Have you found the people you're looking for?"  
  
"WHAT?! You're still at the station? Why? What the hell happened, Ada?"  
  
"We couldn't get past some kind of monster we passed in an alley. A Hunter."  
  
"What? What's a Hunter?"  
  
"Forget it, forget it. Look, Leon's coming to meet me here. I'm using the radio equipment in the S.T.A.R.S. room--it was broken but I figured out how to fix it. Look, we've found some pretty awesome firepower, so we can take that fucker down. What were your directions again?"  
  
Claire spelled out which way and what streets she had used again. She'd always had a memory for this kind of thing.   
  
"Alright, I have it. You're at some kind of church, then? Claire, who are you with?"  
  
"I've found two of the S.T.A.R.S. members here--Brad Vickers and..." she paused and looked at the still figure on the pew, and realized her eyes stung. Don't cry, she commanded herself. But this time she wasn't so sure Chris wouldn't. "--Jill Valentine. And some guy."  
  
"Hey!" Carlos cried from behind her. "I'm Carlos Oliviera. I'm with the U.B.C.S.-Umbrella Bioweapons Countermeasures Service. I'm their firearms exper-"  
  
"UMBRELLA?" Claire cried.  
  
"I just told Sherry that. You people never listen to me...." Brad said quietly.  
  
"WHA...WHA...." Claire's lips trembled. Who was this guy? Had Brad and Jill lost their minds?  
  
"He defected," Brad said. "Besides, he was just a mercenary to begin with. Remember, a good soldier is dumb as a donkey. They follow orders unquestioningly."  
  
"He says....He's with...Umbrella...." Claire breathed into her radio.   
  
"Claire, we'll meet with you there! Hang on! We have some info too. Over and out."  
  
A skizzing sound. Ada had shut the equipment off. Info? God knows she needed that. "Jill!" she said suddenly.   
  
"Oh. Come see her--she's not looking so hot," Brad said. He motioned for Claire to follow him. Sherry stayed behind by Carlos at Claire's order. The whole room smelled so damp. The windows were smeared with dust and the floor gave off such faint footsteps....  
  
Jill's head was resting on a makeshift pillow. It looked like some kind of sweatshirt. It looked like Carlos and Brad had pulled down some curtains and used them as her covers. Claire gasped when she saw her shoulder.  
  
A large wound the size of her fist was festering, turning purpler by the minute and blood was smeared all around it. Red muscle tissue was visible, just barely, and dried blood stained a corner of her blue tubetop. "She saved us," Brad said. "But look what happened...."  
  
"There's gotta be an antidote! Umbrella wouldn't do this--no company, no organization would do this without some way to stop it!" She was crying again, but she didn't really care because she knew Chris would have cried too.  
  
"That's what we figured," Brad said. "And because they controlled this whole city, we've decided to go look for one at the hospital."  
  
Claire's walkie-talkie blared Leon's voice suddenly. "Claire? Claire?" he asked. She snatched it from her belt and brought it to her face. "I'm here," she said.  
  
"Claire, we're at the warehouse. Jesus Christ, there's a body here....It's totally mutilated...."  
  
"Dario Rosso," Carlos called from behind them. "Jill met him, but he already snapped under the stress. He's been dead since yesterday."  
  
"He's been dead since yesterday," Claire repeated into the radio. "His name was Dario Rosso."  
  
"OK. We can see the belltower from here. We'll be over soon. Are you hurt?"  
  
"I'm not. But someone else is." She looked at Jill. She was breathing so softly. Her face was so pale. She already looked dead....Don't think like that! She said to herself. "I have to get the antidote."  
  
"Antidote? What are you talking about??" Leon asked, voice rising. "Are you really OK?"  
  
"I'm fine. Someone's been infected....oh, but you don't know what I'm talki-"  
  
"Yes, I do! Listen, the T Virus isn't the only thing out there! There's a G Virus too!"  
  
"What?! Leon, how do you know??"  
  
"I'll explain when I get there. Wait for me."  
  
Skizz. He shut his walkie-talkie off. "Who was that? Come to think of it, who was that woman, too?" Brad asked.  
  
"Other survivors. At least, I think Ada is. I'm not sure....I haven't met her, Leon has. Leon's a rookie cop from the R.P.D. This was gonna be his first day on the job...."  
  
"Well, that sucks. Carlos, we have to go look for it soon," Brad called back to Carlos.   
  
"You go? You stay here! You'll freak out!" Claire said.  
  
"Maybe, but I can't stay with Jill. That thing that infected her is looking for us--he wants to kill the S.T.A.R.S.! There's no way we can both be in the same place. We have to try and confuse it or something."  
  
"Great. You're a fine person, Brad, but you really can't fight." She put a hand to her temple. He'll be just like dragging dead weight around....  
  
"Thank you for your kind words. I won't get in your way."  
  
"Well, where is this hospital?"  
  
"We can't go yet!" Brad snapped. "You're saying we should just leave Sherry and Jill alone here? We have to wait for your cop friend and that woman."  
  
"Yeah....It makes me so nervous to wait. She's dying...." Claire bit her lip. She didn't really want to cry anymore. Whenever she did, it seemed like she lost someone else. She looked back to see Carlos talking to Sherry.  
  
"So you like music? Are you in chorus?" he asked her, smiling. He was bending down to talk to her.  
  
"No, I can't sing that well. I just like playing an instrument. I'm in Orchestra. I'm not very good at it, but I can play violin a little...."  
  
Claire smiled. Good thing someone was making an effort to keep the little girl in good spirits. She looked past them to the door. Where was Leon? There was still a lot of stuff she didn't understand, like what had happened to Carlos Jill and Brad while she hadn't been there, but she was too anxious to get going to think about it.  
  
Just then there was a banging on the door. "C-Claire!" it was Leon. She could tell he was out of breath by the way he called out to her. She could also hear him and some woman panting. "Open the do--wheeze--door!"  
  
Carlos opened the door and stared at them as they staggered inside and collapsed on a bench. Ada was an Asian woman wearing a red dress and black leggings. Her hair was a little uneven looking, but it didn't really matter. Ada looked at her. "You!" she wheezed. "The girl on the landing! I thought it might be you."  
  
Landing? Oh! The person who had saved her on the landing when her shotgun and pistol were nearly empty. "It's you!" she said.  
  
Ada and Leon looked around. They stared at Carlos, Jill and Brad.. "Who are you guys?" Leon asked. "Which is which?"  
  
"I'm Carlos."  
  
"I'm Brad."  
  
"That's Jill," Sherry said, pointing between Brad and Claire. "She's sick."  
  
"Leon, I have to go. Jill's been infected. Carlos Brad and I are going to look for a cure at the hospital." She shoved Brad forward. "Let's go. Now."  
  
"But Claire! We need to tell you what we found out!" Leon said, wiping his forehead.   
  
"Tell me later," Claire insisted. "There isn't time. Jill's dying."  
  
"Who?" a voice asked from the front of the room. "What's going on?" Jill was awake.   
  
  
  
OK, I know that wasn't very good and nothing really happened, but I should have another chapter up soon. Yes, people I know, Brad is dead...But I don't care! :::Laughs evily::: After all, he and Jill and Claire are some of my fave characters, so it's fun to have them all together. As always, if you've read this far, please review it! See you Again! 


	5. Explanation

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any characters herein. SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT! School has been murder, because we're about to take the ISEE for high school. This chapter should explain some stuff, i.e. how Brad is still alive, and introduce three new mysteries I'll bring into play later. See you Again, and plz review!!!!!!!!  
  
  
Jill's eyes flickered open to the distant sound of voices. Her vision was blurred, but she could make out Brad's form hovering over her, and also someone else....  
  
"Jill!" a farmiliar voice quipped. "You're awake!" Who was that? Jill thought. They reminded her of Chris....  
  
"Jill, it's me, Claire! I'm Chris' younger sister!" she saw the brown-haired girl point to herself, but the her outline was shimmering. Claire? Oh, that's right. She remembered now--last year, Claire had come for a Christmas visit. She'd hung out with them. She'd spent a lot of time asking Jill questions about her line of work, how Chris was doing, what were the other team members like. She liked Claire; she had the same defiance in her eyes Chris had. "Oh....Yeah, I remember you...." she was surprised at how much effort it took to form the words, to command her mouth to speak. Her lips felt like they were starched together. "Brad? What...happened...."  
  
"We brought you back inside after you collapsed," he answered.   
  
"Wait...you're...dead....The stalker threw you...into a tree...."  
  
"Into the branches. I'm OK. But you're not. Carlos and I are going to go to the hospital to look for an antido--"  
  
"Wait!" Claire interjected. "If Jill's awake, she'll be alright a little longer, right? I need to know--what happened to you guys?!"  
  
What happened? Jill thought. That's aloaded story. What's more, what was Claire doing here? Had she come looking for Chris? Jill had a feeling that was it. "Long story....Brad, you tell her...."   
  
"Well...Aw hell, Jill, I'm no good at summaries. Are you up to telling her? Them?"  
  
"'Them'? Who's them?" Jill asked, a note of alarm invading her voice.   
  
"Some other survivors," Leon called from the back of the church. "We're harmless, I swear. But I'd like to know what happened to you guys, too."  
  
Jill thought a second. What happened? "Give me a second to sort it all out," she said, closing her eyes. Yeah. What had happened?  
  
Starting with a few days ago. After blasting out of her apartment building, she'd found Dario Rosso. He'd already snapped from the stress and refused to team up with her. She didn't want to think about it too much. She felt like she could have done more. Then she'd been walking through the city streets, figuring that if she headed to the closest highway it would lead her out. And then she'd run into Brad. She'd had to chase him a few blocks into a local bar that she and her S.T.A.R.S. buddies had hung out at alot. Lots of good times inside that place, now only a dead bartender trying to rip a peice out of Vickers. She'd put a bullet through its brain, and Brad had told her that there was no way out of the city, that it was barricaded. And then he'd run off again. She'd been left wondering what to do. She'd lost his trail, but she couldn't leave a member of S.T.A.R.S. to die, because....well, never mind that, she'd think about it later.  
  
But she couldn't wait around too long. She'd found a busted gate leading to City Hall, but had no lockpicks on her, with which she could have opened the damned thing. And she'd remembered. Lockpicks back at the R.P.D.--her special set. And she'd set off. Yeah, she'd headed to her old workplace, the good old R.P.D. But it wasn't so good anymore.....  
  
  
  
  
  
Night air was freezing, rancid. She couldn't get used to the smell. It smelled like all the foul things she'd ever encountered. It was the stench of death inside the mansion magnified thousands of times, as many people as it had killed.   
  
The deserted buildings along the street she was walking on looked like remnants of the day before Armaggedon. Everything seemed post-apocalyptic--these places that she'd passed every day, these people she had known....both nothing but shells now. She tightened her S.T.A.R.S. sweatshirt around her waist and hunched over, hurrying on. There had to be some way out, or at least a way to contact some form of rescue.  
  
Chris had left to look for his sister, Barry had left to move his family out of the country and out of harms way, and Rebecca had some "loose ends to tie up" or whatever. Brad was her back-up, outside of town at some cabin. She'd had a phone to contact him, and she had before she'd given up her apartment to the living dead that had invaded it.  
  
Living dead. God, she hated that phrase. It seemed so inapropiate, so stupid. Like an actor wearing cheap makeup in a fun house. If only there was something else to call them. Not zombies, either. They were deadly, not a joke. She grinded her teeth together. Damn damn danm.  
  
Ahead of her she finally saw the house form of the R.P.D. She swung open the loose metal gate. It was so cold and wet it felt burning hot. She had been afraid for a second blisters would pop out on her hand. She walked through the grass path and bushes to the front door. She banged on it. "Anybody in there?" she called. "Any survivors?"  
  
Squeeak. The gate behind her swung open, and she turned to see Brad walking towards her. "Jill," he said quickly, "We gotta--" And then, from no where, that huge....thing...had jumped between them.   
  
She stood there. Brad ran back to the gate, and the thing chased him. It was huge. It had a human shape, a vaguely human face, but it was only a sick mockery of humanity. Wearing a black trechcoat, one eye sewn shut and no lips....She'd stood there. Cursing herself for not moving, not helping him, she'd stood there. Stood there.  
  
"Get away from me!" Brad screamed, and that was when she raised her gun a little, thinking she couldn't let another S.T.A.R.S. member die, especially not Brad, becuase of her promise. Her promise to....  
  
She couldn't sqeeuze her finger. Damn it, help him! But she;d only stood there, staring, legs rigid with fear, eyes as wide as was possible. And then--blam, blam blam.  
  
Not her shooting, somebody else. By this time the monstrosity had picked up Brad by his face, and a huge tentacle protruded from one of its cuffs. But it was there that the shots hit it; it screeched. Not the kind of skreech anything truly alive would make. Something Jill couldn't have thought of on her own even if she'd tried.  
  
She unfroze, looking around for the sniper. But she couldn't see anyone, and Brad was running towards her, taking his oppurtunity. "JILL! WE'VE GOTTA GET INSIDE!" He waved his arms around and shoved her towards the front doors. "Wait!" she cried. "Someone shot that thing, but it wasn't me--I--You're not listening!" But she didn't have full control over her body yet, and she'd been dragged inside the R.P.D.  
  
She couldn't know that if she'd been outside a moment longer, she would have heard a farmiliar voice calling out her name.  
  
  
  
  
  
"Well," Jill said softly to Claire, who was bending over her. "I had to...run...from my apartment. It was taken over by the zombies." She winced at having to use that word. "I found Dario. The corpse you saw. He'd already lost his mind. Refused to team up with me. I went on, figured I could come back later and drag him along, or maybe get out and get help....I ran into Brad. He told me there was no way out. On foot anyway. Then we got separated again. We met up at the R.P.D., where that thing first attacked us. It was about to kill Brad when someone shot it...not me. I don't know who. We went inside and got my lockpicks. We got a radio message...."  
  
  
  
  
"This is Carlos Oliviera, of the U.B.C.S. Our team has been desimated. We have only three survivors. Can anyone hear me? Please respond. I'll wait." Jill had stared helplessly at the machine, looking back and forth at it and Brad. "Can't you fix it?" she asked. "No," he answered. "No way. Someone wrecked it on purpose. At least, that's what it looks like."  
  
"So we can't do anything? We need to help him!"  
  
"We can wish him luck?"  
  
She sighed. "We'll do that. And look for him. We've got to find other survivors and pair up with them. There's strength in numbers."  
  
  
  
  
  
"It was Carlos, radioing for help," Jill countinued. "But we couldn't help him. An then....My promise...."  
  
"Your promise?" Claire asked, giving Brad a questioning look. He shrugged. Don't look at me! he mouthed.   
  
"Yeah. I guess I should explain..." Jill murmured.   
  
  
Well! That chapter was shorter than usual, huh? While I was writing it, I was thinking "Oh my God, it doesn't make any sense!" Anyway, I'll explain the "promise" thing next xhapter, but Rebecca's "loose ends" and the sniper that saved Brad are going to be much later additions, so stick around. The next chapter will be up soon, I promise. And if you've read this far, please review it, thanks! See you again!  
  
P.S.: I'm thinking of doing a more historically related story (like gving the characters different positions within a certain time period) or a story about some other survivors within Raccoon. Do you think there's enough interest out there for them? Tell me what you think in your review, or Email me at stonesriver1862@AOL.com (suggestions an stuff too also welcome)! Bye for now! 


	6. The Story Splits: The HospitalThe Betray...

Thank you guys so much for reviewing and saving this story! Here's Chap. 7, but a few notes first: Leon knows most of the plot points available in RE2. Remember how Jill, Carlos and Mikhail had to take that trolley all the way across town to get to the Cathedral? OK, so Claire walks there. I'm not sure how much time that would actually take, but I'm hoping enough that Leon had time to play through the A scenario. Don't ask me how he knows anything other than that...I just had to figure in RE2's storyline! Also, I'll go more in depth about Richard's last request later. See you Again!  
S.T.A.R.S. Girl  
  
  
  
"Look," Jill said quietly. "I'll tell you...How do I do this? Brad, you should remember Richard, unless you're way dumber than I thought." She snickered a little. "Claire, I don't know if you ever met him..."  
  
"I did," Claire said quickly. "He seemed like a great guy. But I heard he di..." Now why couldn't she make herself finish that sentence?  
  
"He's dead, that's right. He died in the Spencer Mansion a few months ago, along with half of S.T.A.R.S."  
  
"Y...Yeah."  
  
"He...Well I guess...How do I explain this? He was poisoned by a huge snake. I went to go get him the serum but by the time I got back it was...too late. He wasn't dead, but he sure...sounded it. Looked it. Anyway, he made me promise something before he died. I can still hear exactly what he said..."  
  
"But," Jill continued, "I'll simplify it. Quickly. He basically said that I shouldn't let anymore S.T.A.R.S. members die, he asked me to watch their backs. Two in particular. He also asked me too look out for myself. But you see, we have a little problem here."  
  
"I hope you're not going to say what I think you are," Claire said. But she could already hear it in her head, it was exactly the kind of thing Jill would say...  
  
"It was my duty to watch out for myself. I can't let you guys go get that antidote for me. That'd only be putting you in danger. I especially can't let Brad do this for me because he is a S.T.A.R.S. member. I appreciate the gesture, man, thanks, but...." She trailed off, a little miserably. "It's my final word. It's what I want."  
  
"NO WAY!" Claire even surprised herself at how loudly the words came out of her. "It may be your 'final word,' but I have my final word too!" She didn't even think about how dumb it sounded. All she cared about was keeping Jill alive...she knew how much Chris cared about her....  
  
"I didn't mean it that way. I didn't mean that its what I say, and that is that. I mean its like my...my last request."  
  
"W...what?" Claire's voice sounded like that of a little girl. Her eyes widened. "But it...It doesn't have to be! We could save you, you idiot!"  
  
"Yeah, don't be a hero. It's not like Richard would've wanted you to die either...didn't he say that? After all, you're part of S.T.A.R.S. too." Brad said.  
  
Jill looked uncomfortable. Sure, she thought, that was true. But of the two S.T.A.R.S. Richard had wanted her to watch out for in particular, Brad had been one. The other...she could've kicked herself for losing track of that one. Now she had no idea where they were and no way to protect them. Protect them? She squirmed under Claire and Brad's stares. Inadvertantly, Richard had left this burden on her, this feeling that it was always her job to have to look out for her former teammates. But she was sure---more than sure---that she would've done it anyway. It was just a part of her. She didn't want any more S.T.A.R.S. to die. After what had happened in the mansion, she had realised just how much she'd loved those friends that died. But now, what could she do? Nothing....There was no way she could put one of her special charges out there on the streets, especially not Brad, who was worse at fighting than her other.  
  
But what about Claire? When she had first met this girl she had gotten the feeling that she was resourceful, independent. And she was, more or less, a biker, wasn't she? So maybe it would be alright if Claire went out there too. But she didn't want to risk losing Chris' little sister, the one he'd always talked about. No, she didn't want to cause him any pain....  
  
Carlos. Carlos was a one-man army, for sure. And they all went out together? That worked. It really clicked, she realised suddenly. Brad was the only one who knew what to look for, Claire could find a way out of any situation, and Carlos would be the firepower.  
  
Claire stared as Jill smiled up at her weakly. "OK," she said. "You guys can go. I wouldn't want you to but....Brad's right. I also said I'd look out for myself. It's not as important as keeping the others alive, but I can't give up when there's still a chance, can I now? Besides, it's not what Chris would want."  
  
"Damn straight." Claire smiled. "So who's going?"  
  
"I want you guys to take Carlos. You three: Claire, Brad and Carlos. Claire, you're resourceful if I remember correctly, aren't you? You can make it through any tight spots. Carlos is a one-man army; he'll be your firepower. Brad, you'll know what to look for and can deal with any technical crap."  
  
"Me?" Carlos called from behind them. "I thought I'd stay with you..."  
  
"Yes, you can stay and watch me die, or you can go with them."  
  
Carlos nodded, but he looked a little miffed. Claire backed up. "We'll be back soon, Jill. 'Til then Leon and Ada will watch you, OK? You can trust them."  
  
"I know it, if you did too." Jill waved at her feebly. "I don't doubt I'll see all of you again."  
  
"Well, maybe two of us..." Brad said quietly.  
  
"Sometimes its OK just to look sad and shut up," Jill snickered. Brad stuck his tongue out.  
  
"So this is S..T.A.R.S.," Claire said, a half-smile on her face. With that, the three of them made a dash for the front door and were across the courtyard in a few minutes.  
  
  
  
This part of Raccoon looked more ravaged than the rest. Although the section Claire had initially wandered through had been enough to put her on the edge of a mental short curcuit, the damage was so awesome, this side of the city looked as though it had taken the most beating.  
  
Not only were cars stacked on each other and broken-windowed, but they were flipped over, or still flaming, or crushed to such an extant she couldn't believe it. She was surprised to see that Carlos and even Brad didn't seem as flustered. But they have been here longer, she thought. But how much longer...? She didn't really have time to think about it.  
  
Another thing that was bothering her was Carlos himself. Jill had proclaimed him a "one-man army" but he was an army that until very recently had been part of the organization that had apparently killed this town and mutilated its inhabitants: Umbrella. She didn't trust him. But she had to. Besides, Jill and Brad had seemed at ease with him, to a point. But what was that point?  
  
And then, she had no way of knowing that Brad wouldn't choke under the gun again, like how Chris had described at the Mansion. Taking off and leaving them. Undoubtedly some good had actually come of that, like finding Rebecca, discovering Wesker's betrayal, and uncovering Umbrella's true motives. And he had come back and flung them the launcher. But still, she didn't want him running back to the Cathedral when they needed him most.  
  
"Look," Carlos said in his heavy Spanish accent, pointing ahead of them. Claire looked up from navigating the twisted wreckage around her feet, and so did Brad. A huge building towered in front of them, but it seemed to be falling in on itself, listing to one side. However, it was almost certainly the hospital; it had a huge red cross next to what looked like doors. But still, she told herself, trying to believe this sagging wreck wasn't it, it could be, like, maybe a...a blood bank or something...   
  
"That's not the hospital, is it? Please tell me its not..." she said, grabbing her ponytail and twisting it with her hands in anxiety.  
  
"It's not." Brad said.  
  
"Without lying."  
  
"Then it is."  
  
"Wonderful." She climbed over a smashed golden chevvy and clambered towards the front doors. It was dark inside, and she couldn't see very well, but...oh, no.  
  
It looked like the hospital had been the reciever of some storms greatest blow. The inside was torn to pieces---the information desk was spilintered, the waiting chairs were broken into fragments, and a nurses body was flung over some metal table. Other than that she was at a loss for words to describe the carnage and destruction.  
  
"Uhm, guys..." she called back to them. "It looks pretty bad inside..."  
  
"So what do you want to do?" Carlos snapped. "Run back to Jill and tell her we didn't find her an antidote because we were afraid of getting our hands messy?"  
  
"I didn't say..." she sighed. She sure as hell didn't feel like arguing with them. Whatever...  
  
"I guess we should maybe go in," Brad said, shoving a broken door open. "Let's see what we can find."  
  
  
  
Jill listened as the sound of rain became audible. It was raining outside, she thought, a little groggily. She could hear it hit the old roof and smack against the stained glass windows. I wonder if they're getting rained on...she pictured Carlos and Brad in her mind. And oh, wait, Claire too. But she didn't want to think about it now...she felt too tired.  
  
Leon looked over at Sherry, who was lying down on a pew. He sighed. What kind of emotional baggage would result from THIS? But then, that was assuming that they actually escaped from this nightmare...don't think like that! He yelled at himself inside his head. Claire and those people went to get the antidote to the T-Virus for this woman.   
  
T-Virus. He hadn't gotten to tell Claire all he knew. Such as Sherry being the daughter of William Birkin, an Umbrella researcher responsible for the development of a new and more powerful mutigenetoxin: the G-Virus. Or that chief Irons was with Umbrella, had been working with them from the start, had been partly responsible for getting so many S.T.A.R.S. killed. Or that Ben Bertolucci, the reporter, had been murdered by Birkin himself, for the scientist had injected his own poison into his body. Or that Annette Birkin, his wife, was still searching for both her husband and her daughter. Or, as Ada had discovered, that Birkin was looking for his little girl. But for a disgusting and inhuman reason....  
  
"Leon," Ada said in her suave voice, shattering his train of thoughts. "You don't look so hot."  
  
"I always look hot," he said, joking with her. She made a clicking sound with her teeth, but she was smiling.  
  
"Say..." she began. "We were separated for a while in the station. Do you remember if you maybe found a sample...of the T-Virus or G-Virus lying around? Or do you maybe have one with you?"  
  
He looked at her strangely, regarding her question. "Why do you want to know?" he asked, tone changed now, searching. "What's your reason?"  
  
"Well, I was just wondering. So then we could both keep it safe."  
  
Leon thought about what Annette had told him: "A sample of the virus is in Sherry's locket." But he didn't want to tell Ada that, for some reason. "No. It's a little weird you ask though." He settled back against the wall he was sitting against. "I don't know where..."  
  
"Well, that's OK then. Never mind." Ada turned from him. And in his head warning bells went off: she doesn't believe me.  
  
  
Claire hit the button for the elevator. Her hand was shaking, and so was the rest of her. She glanced behind her once more, at the smoldering corpse of what Brad had called a "Hunter." It looked sort of froggish, reptilian. She shuddered again and slammed on the elevator's buttons. They were in the Head doctors office, but they hadn't closed the door, so the monster was still visible.  
  
Carlos, who had done most of the fighting, looked shaken too. The Hunter had huge claws and bulging eyes, and something seemed to be almost seeping out of its grotesque body. A ding alerted her to the incoming elevator: a private elevator. The doors opened to reveal a nicely carpeted floor and reflective, polished walls. "Ritzy," she murmured, stepping inside.  
  
"What floor should we go to?" Carlos asked.  
  
"I don't figure it makes much difference," Brad said, and pressed the button with a bright red "4" on it. "Let's just search thoroughly..."  
  
Claire leaned back and looked at her reflection in the sparkling walls. It seemed like a different world inside this pristine compartment. But by looking at herself and her compatriots she could remember that it was not; it was just a preserved pocket of all that she knew.  
  
She glanced at the others. Carlos' shirt hung open, and his hair clung to his face. He was sweating bullets. His grey army trousers were still loose, but damp with muk and blood. He had some kid of rifle slung half-gingerly over his left shoulder. Brad's vest was torn in several places, and splashes of blood marred its initially yellow pallor. His army camo pants were torn, like something had been ripping at them. All too likely, Claire said, sighing in her mind. She herself looked better than both of them. But she had no idea how long they'd been here; they looked very much the worse for wear.  
  
"How long have you guys been here?" she asked.  
  
"Three days," Carlos said. Claire could hear the tension in his voice.   
  
"That's a long time," Claire breathed. She couldn't imagine three days in this hellhole.  
  
"Jill and I have been here five days," Brad cut in. "At least, the zombie invasion started five days ago."  
  
"Five?" Even more astonishing than the fact that this city had been completely decimated in such a short space of time was that Brad had managed to survive for so long in this enviroment. He wasn't exactly King of Fighters material. But her thoughts were ripped to pieces by the strained "ding" of the elevator reaching their chosen floor.  
  
The fourth floor was in better shape than the entrance hallway, but her heart clenched up in horror upon seeing the shape down the corridor. "Hunter..." Carlos said, unslogging his firearm from his shoulder. "I've got it!" He aimed at the mutant---but Claire could see his hands shaking. "You and Brad go on," he said, rather unevenly. "I've got this motherfucker!"  
  
"No way," Claire said, pulling out her battered handgun.  
  
"Do you really think that will help?" Carlos said, shoving her back. "Go find something that will---like an antidote!"   
  
She didn't want to argue. She grabbed Brad's arm at the elbow and dragged him down the hall with her, to the nearest door. Behind them, around a corner, they could hear the steady blows of a rifle firing.  
  
  
"Leon..." Ada's voice came from her still body. Leon looked over. She wasn't facing him. She was motionless. But he could hear her speaking. "Where is the sample?"  
  
"Ada," he said, alarm rising in hiis chest, "I really don't have any idea." He studied her, in shock. She hadn't moved.  
  
"At the precinct," she said suddenly. "I told you we should split up. I told you to go on without me. But no....YOU wouldn't LISTEN!" she whipped suddenly around, a small semi aimed at his face. "I TOLD YOU TO RUN! TO FORGET ABOUT ME! NOW TELL ME...WHERE IS IT?"  
  
Jill pushed herself up on her elbow and looked around at where the shouting was coming from. Who was that? That woman...Ava? Ara? Ada, that was it. She struggled to unholster her gun from the belt sitting next to her. That rookie kid might need help....  
  
Sherry stared with wide eyes. What was happening? Claire had told her she could trust Ada. But now...What was she supposed to do? She lay back down and pretended to be asleep, the way she had when her parents had fought. If they thought she was asleep they'd leave her alone...  
  
"WHERE IS IT?" Ada demanded once more, voice breaking. "I...I TOLD you...." With her free hand she gripped her other shoulder. "TELL ME!"  
  
Leon looked around him. Jill had one hand around the handle of a pistol, aimed at Ada. Sherry was lying down, shaking. He knew she wasn't really asleep. But he couldn't risk them getting hurt. Couldn't risk Claire returning to find nothing but more death.....  
  
"In Sherry's pendant." He tried to make his voice sound even, but in his own opinion he failed miserably. He sounded betrayed. Ada moved from him over to Sherry's small form, but her gun was trained on him. She shook the 12-year-old. "Up," she commanded. "Or else."  
  
Sherry bolted upright and took off her pendant. She opened it slowly and took something out. It looked like a piece of paper, maybe a picture. She clutched it posessively before slowly handing it to Ada.  
  
"Why are you doing this?" Leon asked suddenly. Ada's eyes softened when they fell on him.  
  
"I'm a spy, sent to obtain a sample of one of Umbrella's viruses. I got close to John Fay on purpose, just so I could figure out how Umbrella worked inside. 'They' sent me...But why the hell am I telling you this?" her voice hardened. "I'm going...now!" She grabbed the locket to her and sped for the front doors.  
  
Blam, blam, blam. Ada's form slumped against the doorframe suddenly. Leon and Sherry turned to see Jill, arm wobbling, gun smoking, pointing right at Ada. But the Asian woman managed to stagger out of sight.   
  
Should I go after her?! Leon thought. If she gets that thing to another company...But I can't leave Jill and Sherry here alone! He looked back towards them, than towards the open door. No. Ada probably wouldn't even make it with those bullets in her. The thought stung him, but in Raccoon you learned to accept things quickly. He walked over to Jill, a little shakily. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly.  
  
Wow, that's almost a cliffhanger! I had Ada show her true colors. I know this chapter wasn't exactly up-to-par, but I didn't have long to write it. Sorry about that. As per usual, if you've read this far, please review! Thank you! Chapter Eight will be up soon.  
S.T.A.R.S. Girl 


	7. The Man With the Golden Gun

Here's the next chapter, you guys. I don't really have much to say this time around except this: Thank you once again for reviewing and saving the story! Chap. 9 will be up shortly.  
S.T.A.R.S. Girl  
  
Claire slumped against the nearest wall, the hallway lights dim and of little comfort. Brad was sifting through an overturned trolley's contents, reams of documents, looking for something useful. "Umbrella's a lot like that old story, 'The Purloined Letter,'" he'd said. "Anything to hide, they hide it out in the open."  
  
Through a nearby broken window, the sounds of a city infested with the unreal floated in. Moans of the undead, shouts from she knew not what, phlemy barks from undead dogs. Oops. Not "zombie dogs" Cerberuses. Chris had told her that over the phone, Brad reminded her constantly. She still had no idea why it mattered to them so much; maybe they wanted her to remember it wasn't some creul twist of fate or providence that had mutated these animals into what they now where, it was something tangible---a corporation. Umbrella.  
  
She sighed and ran one hand through her ponytail, tugging at the forming tangles. Carlos was a floor behind them; she guessed they were on maybe the third level of the hospital. She crossed her legs, realising they shook. She'd been feeling calm, but the adrenaline was still in her body, and still working, too...  
  
"Nothing here, really," Brad said from over by the cascading papers. "At least, nothing we don't already know." We. But "we" was Brad and Jill, not Claire. She hadn't payed attention to Chris' recitation of the incident at the mansion over the phone; instead, she'd been flipping through the phonebook, wondering if she should call perhaps some kind of phyciatrist. Now she wished she'd listened. "Ok," she said, pushing herself against the wall and away from it. "I'm worried about Carlos. Let's go back up and look for him." Brad cocked his head. "He's a big boy, you know," he said. "He claimed he'd come look for us."  
  
"Maybe he needs help," Claire said, shoving Brad toward the elevator. They hadn't wandered far from it, for some reason; maybe the normalcy inside it comforted them. Claire stepped inside first and pressed the bright number 4 button. The hum of the wires sounded again. She glanced at her reflection once again in the glossy panels; she hadn't sorted out her tangles at all---she'd only made them worse. Brad looked about the same as the last time they had ridden it.  
  
Ding. She waited for the doors to slide open, but they didn't. She waited a little longer. A little longer. "Hey, what's wrong here?" she asked. "I don't know," Brad said, pointing up at the numbers panel. "But that doesn't even say four." It glowed at the spot between three and four. Claire looked up at the sliding door on top of the elevator. "Give me a lift," she said to Brad. "Then I can pull you up and we can see where we're out." Brad nodded. "OK, but I hope you're not over 140 pounds. That's how much I weigh." He put his hands, palms up, against his knee. He nodded at her; OK.  
  
"Lucky you," she smirked at him before stepping up to try and reach the trapdoor. "I weigh a spritely 120 pounds." "And oh so humble," she heard him say from below her. Then: "Hurry up." She could feel him beginning to wobble under her weight. He wasn't really that strong overall, and he'd been trapped in a decaying city with virtually nothing to eat or drink and precious few moments to sleep; she had to get her weight off him, fast. She banged on the trapdoor, feeling the locks on the other side weaken against her fervant thrashing. Finally it gave under her force and she swung it open. Brad heaved her up the rest of the way and she sat among the cables and the cobwebs on the roof of the car.   
  
It was gray and some sort of mist seemed to be swirling about, wreathing around her and making strange shapes. She swore she heard laughter, or footsteps, or both. She looked around her. A bundle of rope was secured to a corner of the roof area for emergency's, and was easily unwrapped. "Grab this," she called to Brad, lowering it into the compartment and tying it to some kind of hook on the wall. "I hope its secure," she heard him call up. She pulled and he managed to get up there with her. "I told you we didn't need to do this," he snapped. "I told you Carlos would find US..."  
  
"Shut up!" Claire snapped suddenly. "Listen." She was sure she heard footsteps now. They weren't the shuffling kind that accompanied the undead. They were the sounds of a living being striding through the fourth floors hall. "He's alive, whoever it is," Brad said. "It might not be Carlos."  
  
"I know," said Claire, beginning to shinny up a wiry rope. "But let's get up there and see." Brad nodded, but when he stood he reeled a little. "You go on," he said. "I don't think so," Claire said, tugging his arm. "If we get split up we could all die." He nodded and chose another rope to try climbing up.  
  
Claire finally reached the point where the door to the chosen floor was. "How do I open it??" she called back to Brad. "See if there's some kind of emergency switch from this side," he called up, still struggling up a cable. "Most large buildings have one for firemen." She looked and located it. PUSH, it instructed her in large orange letters over a clicker switch. "I see it," she said, resting a hand on it. She noticed that she was beginning to slowly slide down the rope, her sweaty hands unable to keep her at one point. She tried to readjust herself so she could pull the lever. It worked, and the door flung open.  
  
She crawled onto the hospital's floor, and gave Brad a hand as he came up after her. She smiled at him. "We did it, not in good time, but we did it," she said, brushing some dust off her gloves. He snickered. "You're too much like Chris," he said.  
  
"Let's see what we can find, like Carlos for instance," she said. The hallway was still dingy, and the walls and windows were cracked like on the third floor. Overturned carts and dead hospital personel (at least she hoped they were dead) littered the floor, along with blood, papers and other assorted debris. She stepped up to the next door. FILE ROOM, it read in emboldened letters. "Let's start here," Brad instructed. "Umbrella's gotta store some stuff in there." Claire opened the door for them. To see a horrible sight.  
  
Carlos was standing near a metal table, the bpdy of some shot-riddled man laying a few feet from him. A tall man in a trenchcoat and army garb with graying hair had a pistol pointed at him, and an almost demonic gleam in his eye. But it evaporated as his sight snapped to Claire and Brad. "More of Oliviera's compatriot's, eh?" He spoke with a heavy Russian accent. "Stand by him. I'll shoot you next, so be patient." His mouth twitched, and formed into a strange shape, a mockery of a smile. "No shoving, you'll all get your turn. Now move."  
  
Claire chanced a glance at Brad, and he looked at her out of the corner of his eye. He mouthed something. Claire squinted, as if to say "what?"   
  
"NOW." The man ordered them. "I'm not hosting a freeze-frame contest here."  
  
Brad mouthed it again. Claire squinted. It looked like he was saying "Night fly by" or "Nickel Eye" or something. She twisted her face, again indicating her confusion. "NOW!" The man's harsh, military voice made her jump a little. But what really made her jump was Carlos' sudden exclamation and Brad grabbing her arm. "NO!" He launched them back into the hall, and her last view of the room was Carlos diving out behind them into the corridor and the man throwing himself out the window. Out the window! Out the goddamn fucking fourth floor window!  
  
She heard someone scream "DIE, YOU BASTARD!" and then the crash of an explosion. Claire felt her body being thrown back into the length of the wall because of the shockwaves. She was slammed into a metal trolley. She didn't know exactly where Brad landed, but she could hear him hitting the ground with force behind her.  
  
After a few moments she shook her head to clear it. Her neck throbbed where it had hit the metal cart. She looked out. Smoke was trickling out of the room they had just been in. She staggered and clambered to her feet. She wondered if it was safe to go in. She took a few shaky steps to the door and looked in.  
  
The charred remains of the dead man were smouldering. She noticed he had something clutched in his hand. It occurred to her that he was the one to scream out "Die, Bastard," and maybe pull some kind of grenade. She coughed into her hand, then scanned the room. She say something lying over in a corner of the small room. An overturned book...She got the feeling it was important and ducked over to grab it.  
  
She picked it up and flipped through it, gasping. Her eyes widened. It was a book with pictures, descriptions and names for all of Umbrella's horrors. She clutched it to her chest and ran out into the hall again.  
  
Carlos was trying to free himself from a broken glass window that had entangled itself on his clothing. His cheeks were a little blackened with soot and he was glazed with sweat. He finally managed to loosen the glasses grip on him. Brad was holding the back of his head where he'd been thrown into the wall. He looked better than Carlos did, but Claire looked better than both of them at the moment. "Guys," she said, waving the book. "Look what I found!"  
  
"What'd you find?" Brad asked a little groggily, standing up. "What does it matter?!" Carlos snapped from behind them. "We have to keep looking for an antidote!" "Fine. Claire, pocket it," Brad said, glancing at his palm to see if there was blood; there wasn't. "But..." Whatever, she thought finally, clutching it agianst her. Brad and Jill were already pretty well-versed monster-wise; they wouldn't be needing this right now. Right now.  
  
"Our time's running out," Brad said suddenly. "So what should we do?!" Carlos snapped. "Let's start in the basement," Claire interjected suddenly, interupting their budding argument. "I mean...could it hurt?" "No," Brad said. "And it would be a good place to hide things from the public. Besides," he said, grinning suddenly, "Umbrella is sickeningly conventional."  
  
The elevator useless, they had to bang open the door that lead to the stairwell. The windows that had once lined the sloping paths of steps were shattered, glass covering every step. "Looks slippery," Claire said, taking a delicate step onto the first stair. She rested her weight on it. They could make it down, but it would take awhile.  
  
  
Sherry had lain back down on the pew by this time. She hadn't asked Leon any questions about what had happened. She hadn't even spoken. Her shoulder still hurt where Ada had shaken her; but it didn't matter now. She glanced at the piece of paper she'd taken out of her locket. Her family: Her father, mother and herself, perched on Daddy's shoulders in a pair of overalls.   
  
Her family. She squeezed her eyes shut the moment they began to blur with tears; the horrible creature that had been chasing her, much larger than the zombies, calling out her name....  
  
What could that thing be? It was hideous, neither human or undead. Or undead...she hated having to acknowledge that the other category even existed. She sniffed as quietly as she could, hoping Leon wouldn't notice. But the most horrible thing of all about that monster was the fact that it sounded almost like and looked almost like...  
  
...Her father, William Birkin.  
  
Momma, are you alive out there? She wondered, feeling a cold tear drip down her young face. Are you looking for me? I love you. I miss you. I want to go home...I want to escape...  
  
  
Claire looked up in complete revulsion at the two creatures floating inside the glowing glass tanks. They looked almost like Hunters, yet they weren't. They were more...froggish. She shuddered. She didn't feel like looking in her umbrella monster fieldbook, but she didn't want to watch them sleeping in the horrible green substance any longer. Brad was in the process of creating a vaccine for Jill, as he had found the materials and equipment needed as described in a set of instructions Carlos had found.  
  
Ding. Claire turned. "Vaccine's done," Carlos said in a military voice. "Let's go, people!" They rushed up a flight to the lobby. Claire was almost to the front doors, behind Brad---how'd he get so fast?---when she tripped over something. A wire. A wire that was linked to a...bomb. Ready to go off...SOON! "Guys, bomb!" She screamed. "It'll demoslish the hospital!" They stared at her open-mouthed for a second, and in the second she was aware of the true stillness within Raccoon City, how quiet and empty and dead it truly was, how only three living hearts were beating in this whole building, how the only real sound was the beep of the detonation equipment as one more moment went by---"GO!" she screamed at them, and they took off at a dead run, flinging themselves out the hospital doors.   
  
Carlos flung himself into a backalley, Claire propelled herself to the opposite side of the farthest car, and Brad ended up inside that same car, where he covered his neck and hit the deck. (A/N: Damn, that rhymes!)  
  
A deafening roar reverbated suddenly, and the crash of cement crumbling against itself, the shattering sound of glass being blown out, the rocking of the very gore-stained pavement beneath them sounded all at once. Claire felt the vehicle she was resting on being thrown about like a toy. It hit her and she fell on the ground, covering herself with her arms and making herself as small as possible. Debris hit her back painfully. She looked up. Smoke everwhere. She coughed and banged on the side of the car. "Brad!" she called, choking on the dust that had been solid cement minutes before. She heard him say something muffled, and climb out the door on her side. Claire gripped her shoulder, where a piece of glass had struck her, making her bleed. Brad had some cut that was sending blood gushing down his arm. But where was Carlos?  
  
Carlos stepped out of a backalley, screamed something incoherent over the settling rubble's din, but pointed in the direction of the cathedral. Jill! Claire grabbed Brad's good arm and they were off, following Carlos back to the church as the hospital faded into oblivion behind them.  
  
  
Leon glanced at his watch; they'd been gone an hour now, and as he sat by Jill, he could see that she was deteriorating. Her skin looked waxy and weak, her cheeks were pale, and on the rare occasion that her eyes fluttered open breifly, they were glazed and unfocused. Her wound was festering, bubbles of infection popping in the midst of the dried blood. The reddish muscle tissue that was exposed was turning purple, and some kind of pus was sifting out of it. There were no more fresh bandages. Leon glanced back at the door, then back at Jill. In his mind, he begged Claire to hurry.  
  
  
Claire staggered into the church's front hall, her feet burning. She'd never run so hard in her life...The ceilings were creaking loudly. She wondered off-handedly if they'd hold. She wiped away a film of sweat from her forehead, and pulled back some glistening hair that dripped with persperation. Man, that creaking was loud...  
  
Carlos and Brad had slumped against the wall behind her, out of breath. Damn that creaking...why was it so loud?...She tucked back a strand of hair that had gotten out of place. Damn, why was that creaking so LOUD?  
  
No, why was that BANGING so loud. With a crash, something hideous jumped through the side of the building. Something indescribable...  
  
Huge. Almost like a man, but not quite. Writhing...no, not it wrtithing. The hundreds of palish-purple tentacles that COVERED it were... The S.T.A.R.S. stalker.  
  
"YOU GO ON AHEAD! SAVE JILL!" Carlos screamed back to them, getting ready to fight it. Brad took a step back, staring open-mouthed at the creature. "Why?" he asked despondently. Claire took a step toward him, smacked him. They had to go. There was no point in having all of them die. But why did Carlos always have to be the hero? Oh Johnny, no Johnny, why did you have to be a fucking hero? The joke she'd heard so long ago played itself in her head, like a voice on a tape recorder...She grabbed Brad's bad arm by mistake and pulled him. He followed her, wincing, but he kept glancing behind him.  
  
They ran, pushing their lungs to the breaking point. Finally the doors to the chapel were visible. Claire threw herself against them, and so did Brad: they flung open. Leon looked up, Sherry sat up, but Jill did not move. Did not even blink. Were they too late?  
  
  
DAH DAH DAUUMM! OK, so I've finally successfully pulled off a cliffhanger! Yay! ^_- The next chapter will be up soon, and it will explain about the man with the gun...although you all already know who he is. Also, do you guys think I should do a sequel when all is said and done? I've thought it out to some degree, for more information check out the summary for the proposed "Planet Hell" story in my profile. Tell me in your reviews!  
S.T.A.R.S. Girl 


	8. Nemesis

I told you Chap. 9 would be up soon! And here it is. I'm lazy, so whenever a character is about to explain some basic RE plot points, I switch to someone else's point of view, somewhere out in town. See if you know who all these "stream of consciousness" people are. Cheers!  
S.T.A.R.S. Girl  
  
"There's no time!" Leon cried. "Hurry, you've got to administer the vaccine!" Brad took a few steps toward the front, holding the vaccine. He glanced behind him once more, as though it was a given the monster would be right there; he wasn't, of course. Or at least, not yet. Then he jogged forward and took the needle out of its carrying case.  
  
Jill looked dead. He put a hand close to her mouth. "Not dead yet....." he said. "She's breathing; lightly, at least." He checked her shoulder and took a roll of bandages they'd swiped at the hospital for her out of a pocket of his kevlar vest. "Leon, rebandage her while I do this," he said, rising her arm so he could inject her with the antitoxin.   
  
Claire wandered over to Sherry. Questions stung her whole body: Who was the man with the gun? Who had set the explosives--that same man? Would Jill be OK? What was that monster? How was Carlos doing...was he dead? What would happen to them if they survived this hell? And...she looked around....where the hell was Ada?  
  
She heard Jill muttering something from the front of the chapel. It worked! She felt her heart leap, her eyes cool with tears of happiness. But she was too worried with speculation to be as jubilant as she could...  
  
She watched, though, as Jill sat up groggily. "Where...?" she asked. "Oh.....chapel. Brad?" He nodded at her. "For a moment I thought you were...Chris...." He shook his head. "Naw," he said. "But Jill, we'll find him, together, after we escape. We'll find him and you can see him again..." They hugged.  
  
Well, that was all great, Claire thought suddenly, but as she glanced at Leon she knew that something big had happened while they were away. Suddenly Carlos was running down the aisle, the doors thrown open, tripping over his own steel-toed-booted feet. He looked up, face blank with some muted emotion, but when he saw Jill his mouth curved to form a surprised and openmouthed grin. He run toward her, flinging his rifle aside, and gripped her in a tight hug. "Jill...!" He was crying and, Claire noted, so was Brad. She hadn't realised they'd all become such close friends in so short a space of time.  
  
Claire strided softly over to Leon, letting the exuberance over Jill's survival go on beside them. She tugged at Leon's arm. "Leon...?" she asked quietly. "Ada...?" She wasn't as surprised as she might be to see his face become a mixture of hatred, scorn and anguish. "Traitor...!" he breathed through gritted teeth. "I've been there," said Jill from behind them. They turned.  
  
"I said, 'I've been there.' Didn't Chris tell you about Wesker?" asked Jill, sitting up and staring at them. Her voice was still a little shaky, but deep again like it usually was. "He did," Claire said. "Leon---how is she a traitor?" She looked up at him.  
  
"She said she works for...'them.' She said she got close to her 'boyfriend,' John Fay, just to obtain a G-Virus sample. She stole it from Sherry..."   
  
"G-Virus?!" Claire moaned. "What IS that?"  
  
"A more powerful mutigenetoxin than the T-Virus," Leon said. "Let me...explain...what I found out at the precinct with...with...HER...."  
  
  
Annette had locked herself inside the small room. The S.T.A.R.S. office. She snorted. She could have gone on to the underground Umbrella complex to search for William more, but with Sherry missing...and time running out...she shrugged. She'd be dead soon, anyway.  
  
She had already repaired the damaged radio. So, she thought, this is where Vickers and Dewey used to sit...She sighed and leaned back in an office chair. That kid...Kyle? No. Sean? No. Leon, yes Leon, that was it. He'd said Sherry had escaped the precinct with some trust-worthy woman. Maybe Sherry could escape, could be safe...  
  
The worry ate at her guts, gnawed at them. She'd tried contacting them over the radio allready. She promised herself to use it again in another hour, to give it a try. She glanced around her, and noted absentmindedly that the picture of the team was missing from its frame. Not that she cared.  
  
Just one hour. Than she'd use the radio again.  
  
  
"G-Virus," Claire breathed, wide-eyed like a little girl. William Birkin, Sherry's FATHER, had injected himself and was now hunting down his own daughter to impregnate her with genetically mutated embyos, allowing the furthur spread of the virus. Irons with Umbrella, Bertolucci, the reported Chris had always complained about, dead...She shook her head violently. It was too much.  
  
Jill and Brad didn't seem that phased. "So Irons is with Umbrella," Jill said. "I mean, no shit. Its like watching a B-Movie." Brad agreed, and Carlos didn't seem to care much one way or the other. Claire had to wonder if being in this environment was desensitizing them.  
  
Suddenly Carlos stood. "I've got some lose ends to tie up," he said authoritatively, holstering his weapon again. "I've got to take care of them." "WAIT." Brad spoke sharply. "We have to tell them about Nicolai."  
  
"You tell them," Carlos said. "I have to find him..."  
  
"SIT!" Jill barked. Carlos sat himself on a nearby pew. "What ABOUT Nicolai?" she asked.  
  
"We saw him at the hospital," Carlos said. "He had us at gunpoint." So that's who the man was, Claire thought. Now she knew Brad had been trying to tell her the guy's name, not "Nick will die" or "Nickle Eye" or whatever. "He survived, I guess," said Carlos. "I tried to ask him about this body lying there. He said he'd shot the guy, and that he was a 'supervisor.' He wouldn't tell me anything more, and then they-" he nodded towards Brad and Claire-"walked in." "The guy on the floor pulled a pin grenade," Claire finished. "And Nicholai went out the fourth-floor window." She drew a finger across her neck, and made a slashing noise. Dead. Most likely, anyway.  
  
"Oh," said Leon. "Who is...he?"  
  
"Let's explain," Jill began. "Everything. From day one."  
  
  
He had to find her. He had to keep searching until he found her. He'd search forever; no, beyond forever.  
  
He wouldn't have to if only Umbrella hadn't tried to take what wasn't there's. Didn't they know that stealing was no good?! Hadn't their mothers ever told them no to?! It didn't matter. He'd found them all, and given them all time-outs down in the sewer. Nice, long time-outs...  
  
Except for that one. That one, he'd left him floating in the sewer somewhere. The one who'd had the vest labeled "Hunk..."  
  
Oh well. It didn't matter. Soon, soon, he'd find Sherry. And then he could tell her it was alright. This was just a bad dream. And then he'd take her out to the fair that was coming...how he loved the fair. He could spend some time with her. They'd share cotton candy. They'd have fun together---like it should be.   
  
But he had to find her first. He tried to call her name, but for some reason it didn't sound right. And he itched...he burned...but it didn't matter. Soon he'd be eating cotton candy.  
  
  
Carlos had left the chapel moments ago with Leon, who was newly invested with a sense of duty upon hearing Nicholai's double roles. Perhaps it was his own experience with Ada that had prompted him to do so.   
  
Claire was left in the cathedral with Sherry, Brad and Jill. She couldn't help wondering what to do with the little girl; it was too dangerous to have her follow them everywhere, but too risky to leave her alone. She leaned back against a hard wooden pew, mind spinning. Brad was asking Jill to move her arm a certain way, seeing if the antidote was taking effect in any way. Claire sighed and ran a hand through her hair. God, she was tired...she couldn't help wondering if it would be OK to spend the night here, resting. After all, Carlos had said he'd sent the "goddamned monster packing." Well, whatever that meant.  
  
"Guys," she asked suddenly, looking over at the S.T.A.R.S. members. "Do you think we should take turns resting? Like shifts or something?" She looked at how tired and pale the teammates looked. Even though Jill had been in a half-doze for hours, she certainly didn't look rested. Jill looked at her, cocking her head. "I guess." Then she smiled, looking first at her shoulder than at Brad. "I guess we look like shit, don't we?" She laughed. "Alright, you and Brad rest up first, I can keep an eye on things for a while."  
  
"Jill! You just got an antidote for a mutigenetoxin that was rotting your BRAIN, for God's sakes!" Brad sputtered. She put a hand over his mouth. "Shut up," she said. "You and Carlos haven't slept for two days." Claire's eyes widened. Two days?! And yet their performance at the hospital was at least above average...she shook her head. Wonders never cease, she decided.  
  
"But..." Brad contested. "SHUT. UP." Jill said. Then she waved her hand around to indicate the chapel. "THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPELLS YOU, MORTAL!" She grinned. Brad shrugged. "Whatever," he said shortly. "I think you're missing a chunk of grey matter, though."  
  
Claire laid back on a pew. She realised for the first time how cold it was. Her sweat had cooled, so now her drenched clothes felt like she had been thrown into a river. She shivered. How was Sherry doing? She was sitting next to Jill, clutching her good arm. Scared. Brad was on some other bench, she couldn't see where. It didn't matter. Despite the cold, Claire was soon asleep.  
  
Within a few hours she had traded places with Jill. They hadn't been able to wake up Brad, but that was to be expected. He was exhausted, and she had to wonder if Carlos had collapsed somewhere. Two days...nearing three...Claire sighed and clicked back the hammer on Jill's Magnum. Sherry was dozing next to her, head resting on Jill's sweatshirt. God, thought Claire, I want to get going now. Now that I'm awake, I can't stand inaction... Oh well. They'll wake up soon, and we can go. To wherever it is that we're going.  
  
  
The helicopter zoomed across the sky. It was devoid of all markings, but the civilians on the ground barely noticed. Only in one town did two of them look up and realise the discrepancy.  
  
"Hank, why is that?" asked Hailly, pointing up at it. "It's got no markings." To which Hank had replied: "I dunno. Must be some government thing. I think maybe it's dealing with Raccoon City." "Raccoon City! Brrr," said Hailly. "It scares me. All that they say on TV. 'Chemical accident' and all that. But under all that, what are they really saying? What does it mean?" "God only knows," sighed Hank. "God only knows..."  
  
Of course the chopper's pilot was well aware of the lack of markings, and of Raccoon City's predicament. Well, specifically of two people's in particular.  
  
He only had a limited amount of time to get there. Jill Valentine and Brad Vickers were waiting for him. Assuming they still lived....  
  
It was a thought the aviator did not contemplate on too deeply as he sped over the Midwestern countryside and scenery high in the sky.   
(A/N: Damn! That rhymes TOO!)  
  
  
Claire helped Sherry to her feet as soon as she had woken up. "We're going now, OK?" she asked, smiling at her as pleasantly as she could. It was easy. She felt plesant; they were leaving now. They had control of their own fates again. But Jill and Brad were grim as they scrounged for supplies in the dingy church. They checked their ammunition and exchanged expressionless glances; time to fight. Or run. Depending on the person and the situation.  
  
Claire walked out of the chapel and into the main bulk of the church. She looked around. As wrecked and screwed as everything ELSE in Raccoon City. As wrecked and as screwed...  
  
"S.T.A.R.S."  
  
She wasn't sure, at first, where the sound had come from. But Jill had grabbed her arm and pulled her out into the courtyard, still littered with wreckage, and away, acros the street and into the alleys, with Brad following, carrying Sherry because she didn't react fast enough. Claire heard Jill scream "DON'T LOOK BEHIND YOU!" Claire realised the voice that had uttered the name of the fabled team wasn't human. That thing. That stalker.. Now it was stalking her, too.  
  
After awhile she saw the city open up, and Jill plunged herself into some trees seemingly in the middle of town. A park. Claire followed; Brad was ahead of her now. Damn, these S.T.A.R.S. members were fast!   
  
Claire felt herself tripping, then flipping. (A/N: Damn these rhymes!) She was propelled into the air, and hit the ground face first, mud choking her. She staggered to her feet and looked around. Jill had stopped in front of her, doubled over and out of breath. Brad had set Sherry down and was leaning against something; a gravestone. Oh fuck. She'd been dumb enough to trip over a GRAVESTONE. I guess I'm losing my mind, she thought to herself, smirking, as she read the inscription of the tomb she'd collided with. ALEXANDER LEVSKY, it read. 1904-1934. Short life, she thought sympathetically as she got up and wiped away some dribbling mud. Could be like mine, she thought suddenly. Short. If I'm not careful.  
  
"Hey, Jill..." She was going to ask where they were, but the look on Jill's face stopped her. Anguish. Maybe Jill knew this place all too well... Brad had a similar expression, with a bit of shame mixed in. She didn't understand why. She didn't want to. They'd obviously lost the stalker. She glanced around. Toolshed over there, for the upkeep of these graves. Maybe there'd be something useful...After all, there should be a lot of unused stuff, she thought incredulously, glancing at the moss-eaten grave she'd tussled with. A lot.  
  
"Hey," she walked over and tapped Brad on the shoulder. "Toolshed. And I think we lost that mutant." "Yeah..." he sounded a little doubtful, and glanced ver his shoulder again, like the last time they'd encountered it. Carlos; the worry bit at her again. "Jill," she called. "Shed. Tools. Toolshed." Jill threw her a half-smile. "OK," she said in an earnest voice. "Let's go in."  
  
Dingy inside, Claire noted. Aw, hell. Like everything else. Brad flipped through some random papers while Jill sifted through tools and Sherry stood awkwardly in a corner. Claire leaned against a wall...a very wobbly wall...a VERY wobbly wall...what wall? In the second after she heard the crashing sound, saw Brad and Jill staring at her openmouthed and surprised, she was lying on her back. Damn, she thought. Real smooth, Claire. Looking good.  
  
But as she looked up at what the wall led to...  
  
"Umbrella!"  
  
"Secret!"  
  
"Command!"  
  
"Center!"  
  
Jill couldn't resist laughing at their sequenced responses. She leaned against another wall---a solid one, this---and giggled shamelessly. Sherry smiled delicately, the first smile she'd given out since Claire had met her. Brad shook his head, smirking. "Amazing, that, isn't it?" he asked. "Finding these things all over the place."  
  
Jill went past Claire and hunted around through some files. Suddenly she gasped. "You guys..." she murmured. "Lookee what we have here."  
  
"Nemesis," Claire read over her shoulder. "Nemesis. Created to...assasinate the S.T.A.R.S. members?!?!" Her mouth worked in shock. The creature that was chasing them finally had a name. "It was written by a...supervisor!" Jill gasped. "SUPERVISOR REPORT. Oh, my God..." she trailed off, breathing highly audible in her surprise. 'If the Nemesis is still loose in the city, then the S.T.A.R.S. must be very hard to kill... but they can't hope to evade it much longer.' That's all he wrote, as they say...Well, we ARE very hard to kill, damn it! Brad?"  
  
"If I wanna be. Claire?"  
  
"Well, I'm not a S.T.A.R.S. member-" she grinned. "-But damn straight!"  
  
"Oh yeah. Duhhr," said Brad, smacking his forehead. Claire smirked. "Well, let's get going," said Valentine, throwing down the report on disgust. "No point in sitting here rotting." They made their way out.   
  
Claire saw Jill and Brad's faces contort again with troubled emotions when they walked out into the graveyard once more. "You guys...are you okay?" Claire asked softly. Jill looked up at her, seemingly surprised all of a sudden that she even existed. "Yeah...I...I guess...Damn...It's just...this graveyard..." she ran a hair through her hair and sighed exasperatedly, a sound mixed with a tinge of anger and regret. "This place..."  
  
Brad touched Claire's arm and nodded towards a section of the graveyard that was marked by a flagpole with a raised American banner and a fenced perimeter. She looked at him quizzically for a moment, then took a few steps towards it. And saw what had them so torn.  
  
RICHARD AIKEN, JOSEPH FROST, KENNITH SULLIVAN, EDWARD DEWEY, FOREST SPEYER, ENRICO MARINI. The S.T.A.R.S. graves. She stared for a second. She'd met these people. She liked them, loved them even. You couldn't find better people anywhere. She wiped away cold tears in sudden misery. She backed up as Brad and Jill made their way over. This was more their place, not hers. She walked over to Sherry and leaned over to talk to her.  
  
"How are you doing?" she asked. "OK," Sherry said quietly. "I'm scared, Claire. I'm scared of what's chasing us." "It's gonna be fine," said Claire, putting a hand on the younger girl's shoulder. "Everything."  
  
Jill and Brad wandered around their fellow teammates graves, saying whatever they might to their fallen comrades. After all, it would be the last time they saw them. After a while Brad came back over to Claire. "She wants a minute more," he said, jerking his thumb in Jill's direction. Claire nodded, understanding.  
  
But the click of a weapon's hammer distracted them. Looking up, Claire saw Nicholai, a pistol aimed at them. "Impossible!" Brad sputtered. "You were flung...out the fourth floor window..." "Shut up, coward!" Nicholai snapped. "I have my ways. Now, how did YOU all survive my bombs?" "So they were yours..." Claire said darkly, squeezing Sherry's shoulder. "You tried to kill us." "It's kill or be killed!" Nicholai barked. "Well, I'm impressed you have lasted so long...but you'll get no help from me! Now...DIE!"  
  
  
I'm not sure exactly when Chap. 10 will be up. Soon, I hope. As always, if you've read this far, PLEASE review it! Thanks, and see you again!  
S.T.A.R.S. Girl 


	9. BadaBing BadaBoom

Right! Thank you to Rock Solid, who gave me the idea for Leon to...errmm...make Nicholai go "boom!" Cheers!  
S.T.A.R.S. Girl  
  
  
Claire gasped. He'd kill them right now; all of them. "Why?!" she sputtered. "Who are you?" "What's the U.B.C.S. really for?" Brad asked, face pale and expressionless. Nicholai snorted and rolled his small, sharp eyes. "Much like the S.T.A.R.S. team you and Ms. Valentine were in, the U.B.C.S. was sent to get combat data. But," he chortled mirthlessly, "No one ever thought they'd be completely wiped out. Ah, yes...and it's YOUR turn now!" He brought his dark attentions back to the four of them.   
  
But Jill wasn't listening, wasn't even paying attention. Carlos...a tool? Umbrella really did play with people, using them like rubber dolls and pulling at their rubber legs... Damn them! She was sick of people playing god, all around her! She took one step forward, and Nicholai immediately trained his Colt on her. The fury was something almost tangible, emanating from her ominously.   
  
Claire drew in her breath as Nicholai quietly clicked back the hammer on his weapon, cold fire in his eyes. But he didn't have enough time; a loud crack rang out, the unmistakable discharge of a gun firing. Nicholai---slowly, it seemed to Claire, so slowly she thought that he would never hit the ground---fell forward, face a mask of surprise, not even anger in those flint eyes. He did hit the ground (much to her surprise), and Leon appeared in the space where he had been, standing behind him, with gun pointed at him and smoke sifting from it. His face was solemn, but not remorseful. "Leon!" she took a few almost-running jumps towards him and clutched at his arm. "Leon!" she repeated.   
  
Nicholai began to writhe on the ground. Blood poured out the back of his trenchcoat, staining the grey graveyard grass. "You..." he said suddenly, surprising them all. Jill and Brad each took a step closer to him, closing the circle enclosing the dying operative. Sherry stood behind them all, face distorted in terror and shock.   
  
"Bastards!" Nicholai spat, but voice bubbly now, frothy crimson liquid spilling from his gaping mouth. "He'll kill you...all of you..." "You mean Nemesis?" asked Jill. Claire jumped when she heard her friend's voice; no emotion at all, as cut-and-dried as spam. She shivered, wondering in the back of her mind what this place was doing to them. "He won't catch us," Valentine finished. "Ever."  
  
Nicholai grinned through the blood gushing from his nose and mouth, a horrible sight to see. "I didn't say it would be Nemesis...someone else...." He coughed violently, body convulsing like a dog who'd been shot. Finally the spasm ceased. "I'm talking about somebody else...He's after you, all of you...Oliviera, Vickers, you, the brat, the wench and the pretty boy..." another coughing fit attacked him. Jill looked unimpressed, and Brad folded his arms across his chest. Claire stared at their faces. No emotion, somber but menacing all the same. "And also, you're other friend..."   
  
Jill stared at him suddenly. "Other...?" her eyes widened and the darkness, which had held her composure together, vanished. She turned to Brad, dumbstruck. He had a similar expression of disbelief. "Who?" he asked. Nicholai smiled insanely at them, eyes wide and surely delirious now. "The Russian boy, who used to work at the freakshow. Do you remember him? The dogfaced boy....He reminds me of the other target." He grinned, and sank close to the ground, obviously at the end of his rope. The pallor of his skin faded, as did his clarity and voice. "Reminds me a lot..." He paused. "It's a beautiful morning." And then, even though his eyes were open, they didn't see the faces of the people around him.  
  
There was a silence. Claire awkwardly let go of Leon's arm, trying to figure out how without seeming like she wanted to get away from him, but wondering if she should really be this close to him. Sherry tried very hard not to let out any of her building sobs. Jill ran a hand through her hair and stared at the body, and Brad whistled lowly. The silence went on.  
  
And on. On some more.  
  
More.  
  
"Okay, this is stupid. I've gotta be the one to break this tension," Leon spoke up at last. "Well," said Jill quietly, "I was really just thinking. What did he mean...?" "He was illussional, after all," Brad said. "I don't think he knew what he meant either." He didn't sound convinced. "Whatever," Claire said, tugging again at her gnarled ponytail. "Leon---" she turned to him "---How'd you get here? And...where's Carlos??"  
  
Leon scratched the back of his head, looking uncomfortable. "Well," he said unevenly, "I was getting ancy about you guys. We'd made it to some factory---abandoned, of course. I told him I would go and get you all, and we'd meet back there. Maybe it was stupid, to leave him there, but if I hadn't you'd all be dead, wouldn't you?" Claire nodded, and Jill smiled, a little sadly. "Yeah," she said in a very quiet voice. "Let's go, then." Leon pointed back the way he'd came. "There's a footpath," he explained quickly when he was greeted by confused looks. "Oh yeah," Brad said. "I remember this path. Leads out of the park, and beyond that...the chemical factory. Right." Jill nodded, thumb at the corner of her mouth, looking thoughtful with glazed eyes. And then they were going on ahead down the footpath.  
  
Tangled and overgrown, spattered with suspicious red marks, but still clear, the footpath lead well ahead, into darkness not to be penetrated with the naked eye. Claire continually stumbled over weedy plants choking the side of the trail she shleped along, tripping and using her own momentum to regain her balance. The only ones not suffering from the miserable under-growths were Sherry, who was a nimble little girl and who's eyes had adjusted fine to the dark, and Brad, who had grown up in rural Ohio. Lucky them, Claire thought, and a sigh sped through her mind. And then she fell face down and smacked her head on a root.  
  
The moon was very high now. Soon it would be daybreak... "GUYS!" she heard Brad call ahead of them, although his form was swallowed in shadows. "GUYS! COME HERE!" And Claire saw something happen to Jill; she changed, body stiffened, and then a horrible look of disbelief and sadness spread over her face, and she was rushing ahead, never-minding the weeds grabbing at her ankles. "NO!" she yelled. Claire looked at Leon as Jill disappeared into the same blackness that had seemingly eaten Brad. "What was that about....?" She asked him quietly, tugging at his hand. He raised an eyebrow at her. I'm acting like Sherry, thought Claire. Sherry. How was she?  
  
The little girl was looking ahead at the path with glistening eyes, face blank like an empty canvas. She took one step forward, then ran, swift and gone from eyesight in a moment. Claire had no choice; she had to chase after them. Finally she could see the others again---Leon skidded to a stop behind her---and she saw Jill chewing Brad out, yet simultaneously hovering over him, worried. "Don't ever call like that again! I really thought you would be dead when I got here! Just like....like.....Are you really okay?" He reassured her, then pointed to a small ditch off the nature trail.   
  
Looking down, Claire saw why. Two dead U.B.C.S. servicemen were lying, twisted into odd and surreal positions, greeted her gaze. Outfits stained with blood, bodies torn and pulled into oblivion, she could do nothing but gape. Leon stumbled down into the ditch beside them, and pointed to one's hand. He clasped an official document, which Leon tugged from his dead body. His fingers were curled and cooled around it, and only gave when they were individually pryed open. Leon held up the crinkled paper triumphantly, but no smile lighted his face. He staggered back up to the others, and handed the sheet to Brad.  
  
"They're orders, I guess; they confirm what Nicholai said earlier. The other "supervisors," as he said, were also instructed to destroy the hospital and all the data stored inside it. Guess he beat them to it...didn't he say he'd shot a supervisor? I guess he had some reason for wanting to get ahead of the game like...that." He handed the plan to Jill, who clutched it like it was trying to get away from her. Brad glanced back the way they'd came, the place they'd left, where Nicholai's bloody body lay. "Umbrella is covering its tracks, and, for some reason, a lot of their supervisors are winding up dead," he said.  
  
"Who want's to bet it's not just a cowinky-dink?" Leon spat sarcastically.  
  
"I won't take that bet," Claire breathed, watching intently and without blinking as Jill pocketed the notes. "I would never take that bet."  
  
"Let's keep going," Jill said, hands on her hips, a military air pervading her countenance. She nodded ahead. "To where Carlos is. I'm ready to leave." Sherry nodded vigorously.  
  
The path seemed to get better from that point on, less dead plants trying to trip and kill them, it seemed. Brad and Sherry were still well ahead. Finally, the path opened up. The great grey shell of a factory greeted them, silent against the September sky, the cast of Raccoon burning in the backdrop. Jill groaned. Brad looked away for a second. Sherry gripped Claire's hand much too tightly. That was their city, in ruins, over there.   
  
"Bridge," Sherry said quietly, pointing to a very rickety looking bridge. It led to the factory's front gate. Beneath the bridge was a sort of sewege moat, the gushing sound of it flashing in their ears. Jill stepped forward. "No," Claire caught her arm. "I'll go first." Jill stared at her for a second, then shook her head. Leon walked forward without warning and over to the bridge. "Hey!" Jill cried, struggling in Claire's grip. But Leon was already walking across the unsteady wreck of a crossing, which was swaying dangerously beneath him. Finally, he had reached the other side. He turned and grinned at them, giving them the V for Victory. Sherry was already ahead of the older survivors, scurrying across the bridge, which didn't seem to notice she was there. It didn't sway under her light weight, and she skipped and skidded across almost happily, the ghost of a smile brightening her face when she turned around to look at Claire, Brad and Jill.  
  
"Go first," Jill said, pushing on Brad's back. "You're next lightest, I think." "No," he said, turning around. "Claire is. She's twenty pounds less than me." "Wow, and that will make like so much difference!" Jill said dryly. "Just didn't want you to get your facts wrong," he said in an equally sarcastic tone. "You're so stupid! You're like 'nuh uh, she's twenty freaking pounds lighter than me, yeppers!'" she said, shoving him playfully. "You suck at comebacks," he said, using his shoulder to shove her back. Claire decided to use some tactics which had always worked before. "Jill, stop flirting with Brad!" she cried loudly. They froze. She grinned at them, triumphant: embarrass them and they go into freeze-frame mode, than stop. "I'll go first," she finished, flashing the loser sign at them both. She put a foot onto the bridge.  
  
"S.T.A.R.S."  
  
It took her a second for her smile to fade, for her to both react and comprehend. She looked up and saw the stalker...Nemesis. "S.T.A.R.S." it rasped at her again, demanding.  
  
"IT WANT'S US!" screamed Jill from behind her, but Claire couldn't understand the words, didn't even move, whole body frozen in indignation and terror. This thing, this Umbrella creation, it was disgusting, horrible, insane, twisted, a sick parody of all she knew was good and human and right...  
  
The bridge fluctuated as Jill sprang onto it, Brad behind her, both coming around her side to hopelessly confront the creature. Claire snatched at Jill's arm. "LET'S JUMP!" she screamed, her thoughts and actions flooding her once again. She was herself, and it was time to react, as she knew she could. Jill didn't even nod, just tugged herself from Claire's hold with a surprising force, and shoved the younger girl over the ropes and into the murky moat below. Claire's expression was frozen as she plunged beyond the bridge, eyes set wideopen and mouth the slightest bit open, hair flying as the wind rushed up beside her in the opposite direction.   
  
In a moment the water closed over her head, and it was cold and dark and a horrible greenish-grey, and a terrible fear seized her. In an instant she doubted her ability to swim back up, thinking wildly in that moment that she would sink further, beyond help, and drown, drown, the surface of the water far above her. But then her arms worked and she pulled herself over the breaking point, the now-freezing night air welcome to her lungs. Plunges and huge splashes beside her; Brad and Jill had flung themselves in.  
  
She floated above-water, arms working as she looked up. Words burst from her mouth: "RUN, LEON! SHERRY, GO!" Her eyes stung with more than the water around her. She tore at her lower-lip with her teeth. But then there was an "mmph!" behind her. She turned and saw two ripples, and understood immediately that her friends had gone under to avoid the monstrosity's gaze. She sucked in air enough to fill a tanker, and followed their leads.  
  
Cold. Her only sensation for a moment was cold, and then realised it was more than cold, it was "cold...water." Her arms flayed around wildly, and she was above-water again. She looked up, and saw that Nemesis had it's back to her, and also heard hurried and flurried running steps on gravelly grass---Leon and Sherry were running. Oh thank god, she thought. Not daring to talk out loud, afraid the monster would hear and understand.  
  
She felt a clammy, wet hand seize her arm-she turned and saw Jill, swimming backwards and pulling her to the gaping opening of a sewer duct. "We can get in through there," she hissed, Brad already crouched in the opening. Claire nodded and swam for herself. She struggled to clamber up onto the cold metal and out of the soggy, unhealthy water. She looked up, about to say something. "At leas---" But she stopped when Jill hit Brad very hard on the neck. "Ow!" he said lowly. "What the hell?!" "Don't you push me under the water like that again!" she growled quietly. "I thought you were going to kill me!" "Oh, that's likely," Brad said in an off-handed tone. She hit his neck again. "You GUYS!" Claire said, the anger almost audible in her voice. "Let's just go...I'm so worried..." "Alright," Jill said, standing up as much as the low ceiling would allow. "Let us go on noble comrades," she said. They walked forward.   
  
Jill tugged a door open and immediately whipped out her Magnum, aimed at a very large number of zombies. A quintet, it looked like. Claire choked back a scream. Brad took a step backward, in a ready-to-run position. Blam! Blam! Blam! Jill shot at the carrier's repeatedly, face stoneset with anger and frustation. "Just DIE, dammit!" she screamed at them, voice bouncing off the tunnel walls and back to her. Claire fired off a few handgun shots, and Brad was leaning against the door back, obviously a last defense. But suddenly the zombies were cut down remarkably quickly, moaning horribly and splaying out and falling forward, sickening smacking sounds accompanying this. Carlos stood behind them, a smirk-smile on his tanned face. He waved at them in salutations, and Jill's face changed. Her mouth opened in a surprised smile and her eyes opened, and she rushed over and hugged him. Brad grinned at him, and gave him the thumb's up, which Carlos returned with a salute. Claire smiled, happy that he wasn't dead. But she sort of felt out of place, like she didn't really belong in this group, a leftover, or maybe that piece of a 500 part jigsaw puzzle that just won't fit. She thought for some reason of the number 2.  
  
"Where have you been?" Jill asked, leaning over, hands on hips, grinning widely. Carlos brushed back some hair in one suave motion, the same combination of a smirk and a smile mastering his face. "Here," he said simply. "Doing things. Waiting." "What have you found out?" Brad asked. A shadow instantly blurred and darkened Carlos' face.  
  
"A nuclear missile is going to be launched into the center of the city at dawn, which is coming soon. The four of us have to split up and find some way to escape, or we'll all be caught in the blast." The information slowly sunk into Claire's mind, but Brad and Jill absorbed it quickly. Not for the first time, and not for the last, did she wonder how much this enviroment had changed them, hardened them, made them take in huge infoloads so quickly it defied their humanity.   
  
Carlos put a hand on Jill's cheek. "Watch out for your crazy fan," he said softly, gazing at her. Crazy fan? Claire thought. Oh; Nemesis. Like a deranged stalker of a celebrity who was really just an over-enthused fan. Weird humor this guy had. Carlos turned sharply on his heel and sped off.  
  
"Remember to explore separately!" he called from over his shoulder as he disappeared.   
  
Claire looked at Brad (who looked very perturbed for some new reason), who in turn looked at Jill, who in turn looked back at Claire.  
  
"Looks like we're in a zombie-infested city with a deranged mutant chasing us," Claire opted. "It's time to split up."  
  
I just want to saw "THANK YOU!" to everyone who reviewed the original (It was deleted at twenty reviews)!! You guys kept me going all the way! *getting emotional* Anyway, please keep reading this neopost (if you will) of the story, and PLEASE don't stop reviewing! THANK YOU ALL!!!! 


	10. Voice of Despair

I'm not sure how the scene with the machine-gun fire in the "communication tower" goes, so I sorta had to improvise. Just bear with me, please...Anyway, hope you enjoy the surprises to be had in here. Cheers, and please please please review!  
S.T.A.R.S. Girl  
  
"I suppose you'd like to know how all the supervisors have been dying?" Wesker asked impassively. "You would, wouldn't you?"  
  
"How do I know I can trust you, you BASTARD!" Jill screamed, voice seeming to echo in the small room. "You killed them ALL!" Tears flooded down her cheeks, making them shine ruddily. "ALL OF THEM!" Claire reached out and gently wrenched the radio away from Jill. The other girl crumpled to the floor, wailing.  
  
"I would like to know," Claire said directly. There was a pause. "Who are you, my girl?" came Wesker's voice, unemotional. "Claire Redfield," she asnwered, as impassively as she could. In reality, her legs had begun shaking. If this was Albert Wesker...And it had to be. She knew what he'd done... She shuddered, but didn't let it come through in her voice. "Now. Tell me about Nicholai?"  
  
There was an apathetic sigh. "Zinoviev had great plans, you know," Wesker continued after a moment. "He was the one killing the other supervisors, simply so he could get more bargaining power when it came time to negotiate his bonus with Umbrella. You know..." there was a dispassionate yawn, then: "He was planning to collect the bounty on Valentine's and Vickers' heads. Not a modest one, at that." He chuckled a little. "And---"   
  
"NO!" Jill cried suddenly, whipping the radio away from Claire. "HOW DID YOU SURVIVE?! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU?! HOW CAN YOU BE HUMAN?!" she shouted into it.   
  
"My dear Jill," Wesker scoffed, a tone of amusement in his voice. "What makes you think I AM human anymore?" he laughed. "In fact, I've gained a lot of power; more than you'll ever have...bitch!" he laughed again, loudly this time. "I hardly gave up anything! And now look at the rewards!" He cut off his sniggering. "And also, I have someone here you might know. Right here in my chopper with me. Someone you have not seen for a while, I'd wager."  
  
Chris! Claire thought wildly. He's got him! She hugged herself, afraid, leaning over a little as Jill stood straight, waves of anger and sadness crossing her face. She didn't say anything. Then.... "Impossible. You're dead. Tyrant killed you. I saw. Who IS this?" But Claire wasn't fooled; Jill believed. She was just trying to deny what in her heart she knew was true... Wesker chortled again. It was at this point that the sound of a chopper became audible. "It doesn't really matter to me if you believe it or not. You'll be dead soon anyway. Look out!"   
  
As if on cue, machine-gun fire racked the tower, cracking and destroying the windows, pouring into the room. Jill and Claire dived for cover, successfully so. Claire gripped her arms together and hid behind a metal desk, listening intently, surging with adrenaline, as the sound of a helicopter died out, vanishing into the misty and desolate night sky. Only then did she move.  
  
Jill crawled out from underneath a control panel, and the two stared at each other. Claire's face was a mask of terror, while Jill's face was twisted with rage and shock. She slumped over. And it was then that they heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs outside.  
  
Brad and Carlos flung open the door. Both looked very much the worse for wear: Carlos' clothes were torn in many places, shirt hanging way open, hair plastered damply to his forehead in a film of sweat, leg bleeding from some wound, eyes narrowed. Brad's vest was slashed across the side, and blood was seeping out of the tear, plus numerous other bloody cuts and abrasions. In her mind, Claire was tallying up where they were all hurt: Jill: shoulder (stopped bleeding), forehead above her left eye, Brad: left arm (stopped bleeding), side, too many other bloody scuffs to count, Carlos: right leg, elbow of right arm, side of neck (she joked with herself in her mind, but discounted the possibility of it being a hickey), herself: shoulder (from where debris had been hurled into it at the hospital), and...well, that was it for her. She was in the best condition of them all, Brad was in the worst, but what really counted was that they were alive.   
  
"You guys," Jill uttered, aghast, "it was..." she stopped.  
  
Carlos ran over to them first, and bent down close to Jill. "What was?" he asked, hand on her shoulder. Brad walked hurriedly over to something on the control pannels. Claire watched him, still sitting on the floor. He flung papers around frantically, until an old-fashioned looking radio was unveiled beneath the records. He began searching the frequencies on it speedily.  
  
"What was, Jill?! What was?!" Carlos kept begging her, as she leaned over her head so that her hair fell over her face, looking straight down, back rolled over as she sank further. Carlos still gripped her shoulder, face cloudy with distress and concern. Suddenly she sat up, loose strands of hair still flung over her ashen face. "Brad!" she said, looking at him, her voice both hushed and loud. He turned back to look at her, crouching close to herself on the floor, but face clear now, ready to tell him something major. "What?" he asked, setting down his headphones. "What is it, Jill?"  
  
"Wesker. He's alive. That suniva bitch is alive. He spoke to us over the radio. He...he said he wasn't human any longer." She fell back over, ran her hands through her auburn hair, then sat up again, staring at him expectantly. He stared at Claire with a scrutinizing look, but she nodded. He turned pallid, stared at her. "But that's..." he began helplessly.   
  
"Impossible?" Jill spat. "One would think so. But one would be WRONG." She slammed her fist on the ground. "That bastard! I despise him! I hate him!...There aren't any WORDS...!" she fell over on herself again in frustration, indignation and anxiety.  
  
Claire stood up and wandered over to where Brad was standing as Carlos tried to comfort Jill, who kept shaking her head ("What can I SAY....?!"). She put a hand on top of his head and turned it towards the radio. "Keep checking the stations," she ordered authoritatively. He nodded, wan-looking but determined.  
  
Claire turned back to look at the other two. A wave of terror swept over her. Where were Leon and Sherry? How could they find them? Were they...they couldn't be, oh no, please...dead? She tugged at her ponytail, which she realised as a forming bad habit. She didn't give a damn. She turned back to Brad, who was pressing one headphone to his ear. Suddenly---"I've got something!"  
  
A familiar voice came over the system, speaking to them gruffly. "I'm coming now, in a helicopter, for Jill Valentine and Brad Vickers. I repeat, I am coming in a helicopter for Jill Valentine and Brad Vickers, and any survivors they might have picked up. I am coming for the S.T.A.R.S. members. All you must do, if you can hear me, is meet me at the chemical plant's helipad...repeat, you MUST meet me at the chemical plant's helipad. You know who this is, you two, if you can hear me..."   
  
Jill's head shot up, Brad brightened. "Barry!" they cried together. Claire already knew that. Barry Burton. So he was coming for them....good ol' Barry. She shook her head. He was their ticket out of here. But...Leon and Sherry? "What about my friends?" she asked the others. They all turned their heads to her.   
  
Carlos stood up. "I'll go look for them! Jill, Brad, go ahead to the landing pad! Claire, will you come with me..?" He held out a hand, palm up, in her direction. She grabbed it. "Let's go!" Jill and Brad turned. "Wait!" Brad called. "Will you be able to find the helipad?" Claire nodded. "After spending two days in this dump? I can find ANYTHING!" she flashed the "V for Victory" sign at them, smiling. Jill nodded; Brad gave the thumb's-up gesture. So she and Carlos sped out of the room, down the stairs and into a formerly unexplored section of the factory.  
  
Claire watched as Carlos flung open a door she had missed. "Let's check it out," he said back to her. She nodded, and they stepped inside. It smelled musty, but it appeared to be an office. A desk was in front of them, and behind it was a door. Sherry and Leon obviously weren't in here, but she glanced around anyway. To their side, a few cheap-looking water color prints hanging on a pale grey wall. On the desk, a few family photos: a smiling amber-haired woman and small child (girl or boy?), an older man and his grown son, a dog and a baby, that sort of thing...A stapler, files she didn't care about anymore, whatever. She stepped forward, as Carlos pointed at the door with a questioning look. She nodded and he tore it open.  
  
This door led into another passageway. The walls were highly reflective metal, and she found herself wondering whether they were two-way mirrors. The thought made her shudder. Carlos was already walking down one way, and she hurried to catch up, latching onto his arm. He raised an eyebrow at her but she stuck out her tongue and didn't let go. "I'm scared, OK?" she said defensively. "Uh huh," he said passively. Her face burned---what she said was the truth---but she didn't feel like dealing with it right now. He stopped at the next door and glanced at her. "Whatever you want!" she hissed, still defensive. "Just remember we're running out of time," he said, and yanked it open.   
  
A pretty plain room. It looked like an abnormally large janitor's closet. Implements for the upkeep of the factory were leaning on the leaky, damp walls, resting as if weary from a long days work. Shadows were in every corner of the closet-room. A perfect place to hide, she realised. She let go of Carlos and meandered over to a different side of the tool-room. She looked around. Beside her, something moved. A whimper. "Sherry?" she asked quietly. "Is that you? Are you there?" There was a creaking sound, and the little girl jumped out of a chest full of different bottles of cleaning supplies. "SHERRY!" Claire cried, clinging to her. The younger girl kept whimpering, shaling. "What happened?" Claire asked.  
  
"Papa came after us."   
  
Claire raised an eyebrow. Was Sherry alright? Surely this place hadn't...driven her out of her mind? "Sherry, what do you mean?"  
  
"My papa was an Umbrella scientist," Sherry sniffed. "He was working on some kind of drug. I think he may have accidentally made himself sick, like Jill was sick, only past that, and worse than what would have happened to her...He's not really my papa anymore, he's only a shell, but he keeps calling my name and screaming for me..." She sank her head into Claire's shoulder, bawling.  
  
Claire stared at Sherry. So then... Sherry's father was a scientist?! She gripped the little girl closer to her. What could her deformed father possibly want?! She looked over at Carlos, who was shrugging again and again. "Where's Leon, honey?" Claire said quietly. Sherry looked up at her. "I dunno," she said through large tears that were gushing out of her eyes and down her soft cheeks. "He said he'd go look for him, but I think that was about an hour ago. He said he'd fight him..." Claire shivered. "Carlos!" she said. "We've got to go and find Kennedy!"   
  
"Time...it's..." Carlos stopped. "The nuclear missiles are coming fast. We've got to meet your friend Bear at the roof in minutes. How can we find him in this huge factory?"   
  
Claire smiled a little in spite of herself. Bear? Well, Barry and Bear were pretty similar, and the S.T.A.R.S. had always teased Barry, calling him "the bear man," and such. But there wasn't time to think of that now. "Carlos, we have to go! WE CAN'T LEAVE ANYONE BEHIND!" he stared at her. Then he grinned a little. "You're right, of course. But we only have a few minutes. Grab the kid and we'll go check some more sections of the hall."  
  
  
Brad and Jill wandered around the bodies of the U.S. Special Forces men. Paraclesus's Sword, a huge Rail Cannon. The body of some kind of monster. These men were sent by the government...unreal. Jill shook her head again and again, and Brad kept chewing at his lower lip. "We have to go up, still, I guess," Valentine said at last. She'd recovered a bit from the shock of hearing Wesker's voice. While she had reacted with extreme emotional displays (to be expected), Brad had reacted not at all, because THAT was his reaction: numbness. Jill punched him on the shoulder. "Earth to Brad," she said loudly. "We have to GO." He looked at her, surprised, as if he hadn't expected to see her there. "Oh...yeah." He said, glancing once more at the bodies, both human and inhuman. "But...Jill. That Rail Cannon must have been too large to sneak in. What's going on here?" "I really don't know," Jill sighed. "We don't have time to figure it." He nodded, and they went on ahead. However, in the room ahead of them, there was someone waiting....someone who had always been waiting....  
  
CLIFF-HANGER! Well, not really ^_-. You all know already how Jill fights Nemesis in the original game, so I won't go into detail on that. Carlos and Claire (and o yea Sherry too) are gonna be facing off with big bad Birkin, however, so stick around.  
Oh, Wesker, you ask? He's gonna be making a reappearance, so don't miss that. PLEASE review!  
S.T.A.R.S. Girl 


	11. Birkin

CHAPTER 11 IS HERE! Yay. Go, Whoo-hoo. Anyway, this story is almost over. I'm expecting about two more chapters, then...*groan* the epilouges. Please review!  
Cheers!  
S.T.A.R.S. Girl  
  
  
The hall air was still---completely still. Nothing moved, not even dust motes, and Claire got the feeling that even her breath was staying in some sort of bubble around her. Sherry had her hand grasped around Claire's, while Carlos paced in front of them. They were waiting for the door ahead of them to open. It said it was counting down a time before it could let them in, clearing the room inside of some kind of gas. The thought made Claire uneasy, remembering the yellow, acrid smoke that had almost suffocated her, pouring from the Nemesis' gory burns and wounds. She shivered, hearing it's death scream once more.  
  
She looked around the long hall. It had to be at least fifty feet long, the walls a very dull kind of glass or metal, reflecting only the colors of the three people standing there, not shiny enough to catch depth, form or volume. Above their head was a row of dingy, broken office-type lights, their crystalline plastic shields shattered and littering the floor, making every step send a "crunch" resonate through the hall. The floor itself was made of the same material as the walls. The door beside them was a boring grey panel, with a small panel beside it, part of the walls, a green button flashing as it continued counting. Suddenly a small ding came from it, and the light became purple. Weird color code, Claire thought.  
  
The door slid open with a gravelly sound, as if fighting the floor, which was trying to keep it closed. Claire glanced once more at the hallway behind them, but had a strange feeling they'd never see it again. She walked through the hatch.  
  
And covered her eyes. As soon as she was just a few feet into the room, hot neon lighting sprang up, bathing everything in a crimson glow. She squinted. The room was huge, at least 500 feet around. She had no idea what it could be used for; the only instruments she saw scattered about were machine guns and an oversized straight jacket. Wait. There was something up one wall...  
  
The walls were huge, and she realised that she was standing under a low roof, while the rest of the space opened up into a huge shaft that reached up, up. Up a few hundred feet was a long window, a few office chairs just visible behind it. Like a Roman arena...and it hit her. Testing range for new monsters. That's where they were.  
  
"Looks like we're in the monster's gym," Carlos said, taking a few steps forward. "I don't think her.... 'dad' is in here. Where would he hide?" he grinned and spread out his arms confidently.   
  
Claire nodded, but looked up. Wherever the top of the workout place was, she couldn't see it. It looked so surreal, a room stretching up beyond her eyesight. What if Birkin just happened to fly in?  
  
At the far end of the room, she noticed, was another door. No, scratch that; an elevator. An elevator! Maybe Leon had taken it up, looking for them, telling Sherry he would be back... sounded likely. "Carlos!" she tugged at his arm. "Over there. It's an elevator, we should check it out." He nodded and wiped a thin layer of congealed blood from his forehead. Claire shuddered; more than anything she wanted to get her friends medical attention.  
  
They started across the huge space. There footsteps echoed off the wide walls, the grey-paneled floor under their feet clanged dully, the observation window seemed as if it had "supervisors" in it now, watching them. Absurd, Claire chided herself. Well, maybe nothing was absurd here in Raccoon.  
  
Suddenly, Carlos stopped. He put a finger to his lips as Sherry started to say something. The silence was louder than a thousand sirens. When faintly, they could hear it. A strange scratching sound. Something like bone on glass, or like that...  
  
Claire's heart lurched with terror, jumping into her throat and seeming to strangle her. The observation window. She looked up and say a vaguely human shape clawing at the dull glass. Mutated, lurched over, eye protruding sickeningly from one arm, a giant, pulsing optic receiver, swiveling drunkenly, suddenly locking on them, glowing, dripping mucus.  
  
Sherry's scream vibrated and ricocheted off the heavy walls, cluttering the vast, dusty space. In a flash Carlos had his hand over her mouth, stopping her outcry, both with eyes widened in terror. "Ele...va...tor..." Claire breathed tensely, stepping back and waving her arm in their direction. "Gotta...run...1...2..." she took a deep suspiration---"3!"   
  
And then they were running---racing, and the shatter of glass seeming hollow somehow, like they were underwater; but, like being underwater, there was a sense of being close to death, beating the clock-if you could.  
  
The thudding of her feet against the dull, red-streaked floor was the one sound that came jumping to her ears; clunking like she'd never known, choking her, blocking her path, the blast of vibration so great it created a cross-wind in front of her. But she could see the door to the elevator appear in front of her, hazed in her eyes which were flooded with sweat. She stumbled and slammed against the freezing portal. Carlos was beside her in a second, Sherry in his arms, and Claire turned to look behind them as Carlos fumbled with the controls.  
  
A huge malformation towered behind them, swaying unnaturally, clotted with ruby blood and white-filmed scar tissue. Its face seemed to be made up of thousands of smaller, screaming ones; Claire was reminded of A Nightmare on Elm Street. But this was no night mare.   
  
She knew that as sure as she breathed, certainty secured finally as it walked towards her---all disbelief in the situation vanished. This was the dream you never wake up from, she thought, perspiration dampening her matted bangs and ear tails, dribbling down her cheeks and meeting under her chin. And she could feel her features twist into an enraged grimmace, a snarl, looking at this thing, this monster with the broken body and missing soul, crying out in a drowning voice for what it could never have. Her lips curled in animosity.   
  
Not at this creature. At this sytem. This Umbrella corporation. And she felt a hand grip her shoulder too tightly-Carlos. They could go, the elevator doors were open wide. Sherry was staring blankly at the shadow of her father, dragging its oversized arm towards them. Claire backed up, saw Carlos press the handy "Close" button; and the doors cut out the wretched beings frame with a civilized ding.  
  
  
Annette looked at her watch. She'd been trying the damn radio-again and again-for hours. She'd have to give up soon.  
  
She held the gun firmly in her sweaty hands, fanning herself with a blank manila envelope. The S.T.A.R.S. Office was unbearably hot. "End of the world," she breathed weakly. "I'm going to die..."  
  
Suddenly the radio crackled and fizzed. A voice came, deep and gruff, over the static (but just barely). "Jill...Brad...hurry to the rooftop...Hurry to the helip--" and it was skizzed out. The radio was dying, just like Raccoon.  
  
But Annette smiled weakly. The voice was definitely Barry Burton, S.T.A.R.S. member. "Jill" and "Brad" had to be his teammates. So, she thought, people are still hanging around in this hell...  
  
One more time. The radio deserved a second chance.  
  
  
Elevator music branded itself into her ears. Da dam daumm, dam da da...Gaahh! She covered her ears. Carlos looked at her sympathetically. But it didn't matter.. Soon they'd be out of here. She gnawed, rabbit-like, at her lower lip. GOD DAMMIT! The words exploded in her head. Sudden rage just burst and flew through her mind. WE'VE GOT TO GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE! Then the storm passed and she rested her back on the freezing frame of the elevator.  
  
There was a jolt. Not your normal elevator jolt-announcing your floor-but something far more sinister. Much more. The entire box of the lift shook, and she got smacked against the door, while Sherry fell down and cracked her head on the dirty floor. Carlos held out his arms for balance. Then it was over, and the three struggled to regain their composure.  
  
"What was that?" Claire asked, wiping her cheek where it stung. "Dunno," Carlos said, giving Sherry a hand up. "Maybe just old machinery?" Claire frowned. Great. Now she could worry about plunging to her death, trapped inside an elevator, while the god-awful music played. Peachy peachy.  
  
Then the passenger elevator rose again, and a slight beep announced that they were on the top level; roof. Helipad. The door opened to reveal destruction.  
  
A crushed stage, smashed and wrecked. But she was used to it now. She suddenly put her hand to her eyes, aware of a choppers steady beat. Barry! Blue 'copter light spun itself like liquid cobwebs over their heads and upon the ground and debris, and a voice called out "You there! Survivors!"   
  
Claire nodded, grinning, feeling joy well up like song in her heart, a sense of freedom flowing through her. She looked around for her friends. And her heart rose like a dove inside her character.  
  
Jill, Brad and Leon were at the other end of the landing pad. They waved at her, them, the three of them, and Claire opened her arms and called out happily. But she realized something was wrong. The happy expressions of the others died suddenly. And Claire's body stiffened, sweat froze. Because behind her huge crunches were echoing from the elevator shaft. Moans. Birkin was climbing up after them.  
  
  
OOOOO! *drumroll* Next chap will be up soon ^_^ Tell me any ideas for how this fight should go in ur reviews because...frankly...I'm still trying to figure it out! Please review!  
Cheers!  
S.T.A.R.S. Girl 


	12. Skyline in the Rain

OK, OK, I know that this ending is WAY anticlimactic. It's all cut-and-dried, nice and easy for our people here. But I'm not good at writing monster fight scenes...well at least I tried to make up for it with lots of detail ^_^; Also please remember that I've never actually played RE3, so I don't know if the chopper that Barry is in has a door to the cockpit, or if you can see the skyline of Raccoon from the factory roof. I just decided "yes" for both of them, but if I'm wrong feel free to tell me. This is the last *real* chapter, actual epilouges should be up soon, plus a sequel; watch for "Planet Hell" in a few weeks! Cheers!  
S.T.A.R.S. Girl  
  
  
Claire backed away slowly from the elevator duct. Carlos caught Sherry by the shoulders and pushed her back. He took his gun from its holster, but at this point the only weapon he possessed with ammo in it was a miniscule semi. He clicked back the hammer nonetheless. Claire yanked out her pistol, shotgun long since discarded.  
  
Footsteps behind her; she chanced looking back to see Leon motioning for Brad and Jill to signal the chopper, instruct a safe landing, while he and those near the shaft would hold until it landed against the new enemy. Redfield turned her head around, back to the problem at hand.  
  
The grindings and sounds of destruction grew louder and more incessant from the passage-shaft, until Claire and Carlos had backed a decent way away from the clamorous crashes and bangs.  
  
Suddenly the closed, acid-stained doors began to shake. They bent and suddenly-with a horrible peal-a pulsing, disfigured and oversized fist, large enough to hold Claire up, split through them, shattering the greasy air of the roof. Sherry screamed and Carlos suddenly shoved her behind him, rough enough so that she stumbled and nearly fell, but than ran in Jill's direction, looking behind her with glittering eyes and wavering, open mouth. Jill caught her in her arms on the opposite side of the roof. "I should be helping," the S.T.A.R. breathed.  
  
It wasn't a second before a large, scab-smudged chest and head tore the framing of the doors aside, the crushed metal being scrunched into sharp heaps at doorframe's edges. The creature, sparse blonde hair like a cadaver, rolling eyes and long, steely, crimson-streaked claws, shoved itself through and stood-full height-in front of Claire and Carlos. Exposed muscles throbbed eerily, boasting ill-gotten strength. Resemblance to a man was...nearly non-existant. Claire shrunk back, repulsed more than before. And he had done this too...himself?!  
  
The chimera threw back its head and screamed through lips nearly burned together, folds of translucent skin dripping over the mouth. The sound was anguished, a mix of a broken train whistle and an agony last screamed. And then the things great claws came down and slashed right through the concrete of the roof. Claire knew they would melt through her like butter.  
  
And even as she thought that, she heard the sounds of a chopper growing louder, the flowing blue beams from its searchlights intensifying, roaring of the wings sharpening. It would be landing soon. Good, she thought. We can't have much time left...  
  
Dragging its decaying limbs, Birkin scrapped itself towards them, one light arm moving wildly with flashing claws. "Lovely," Claire spat and raised her pistol. No good, no good. She knew.  
  
But what COULD she do? One shot, two, three, and the Thing only wavered, reeling, but still slumping closer sluggishly. Many shots, issued too fast to count, and nothing; nothing.  
  
Or maybe not. The Thing seemed like...it was dying. Dying? How? Why? She stared intently while continuing to barrage it. Bullet wounds! She realised suddenly. Not by their weapons: machine gun blasts. Carmine blood still dripped feverishly from the injuries. Yesssss, thought Claire. A point in their favor! But something else... She spied something stuck on one claw. Part of a uniform...? In the tumult she could barely read the word: Hunk.  
  
She nearly jumped when she felt a light tap on her back; Leon! He held up a shotgun, taking deliberate aim, and firing openly. This seemed to have some effect on the Thing: it slowed and screamed again. He fired more and more, stopping occasionally to put in more shells, Claire and Carlos firing uselessly, or maybe importantly, who knew; but soon the Thing fell over and clawed at the ground, wailing. Claire covered her ears, not only to the scream of a wounded giant, but to the increasingly deafening the sounds of the helicopter.   
  
She turned and saw a huge chopper set itself down not far from her, rotating blades speeding, faster and than slower, stilling, but never stopping. Brad started motioning for the others to come, it was time to go everybody on. Leon took Claire's shoulder and they ran, with quick steps, towards the 'copter.   
  
The wings were still whirring, blowing Claire's hair away from her face and making her azure eyes water. "COME ON," Leon screamed, stepping up through an open, sliding-type hanger door. It was dark inside the helicopter, disused equipment hanging on its walls, but thank god they had a way out. Carlos heaved himself on next, then he and Leon helped Sherry up, who was sniffling and quickly grabbed Leon's arm, cowering. Claire took a step closer them all but stopped.  
  
Looking behind her, she could see that Jill and Brad were hanging back. One could see the city skyline from here, dark and smouldering now. What had it once looked like? This had been their city... Both stared with lost expressions at the husk of this place. Than Brad suddenly lifted his head and shook his head left and right as to snap out of some sort of trance, lightly tapping Jill's arm. She turned back and gave him a deep expression.   
  
Claire looked out over the skyline too; a faint rain washed the empty buildings and streets in silver. Bluish-grey clouds rolled over the top of the burg. Smoke rose here and there. The spiral of the church Jill had lain in was just visible. The R.P.D. could be seen barely inside some shadowy fumes. This site was empty now: all of it.  
  
She turned back towards the helicopter and let herself be helped inside. Brad and Jill clambered in next; all of them. Sherry wiggled until she was against the far wall from the hatch, which Carlos dragged closed and secured. From the front Barry called back to them-- "Is that everyone?"   
  
"It is. Let's roll," said Jill. She put a hand poignantly on the door. "OK," Barry yelled back over the spinning wings. A slight jolt, and Claire's stomach seemed to float for a second-they were rising. She breathed in shallowly. Going...Chris... she waved pitiably at nothing in particular. No windows except in front, they all saw-and faintly, over the radio, voices suddenly could be heard.  
  
"U.S.A. Firebomber #45 commencing to bombard Raccoon City," it crackled dimly. "Starting in 34 minutes." "Thir...Damn! We'll barely have time to get out of the city!" Brad said from the back. "We'll make it!" Barry called from the front. "You wanna take the controls?" Brad shook his head; too exhausted. "Fine then-leave it to me!" Barry said.  
  
Claire huddled against the cold chopper walls, lined with army-green mesh. Leon was sitting next to her, legs drawn in close, hands folded and fingers twiddling. He glanced na•vely at Claire, who smiled. She looked at the others in the chopper.  
  
Jill: crystalline eyes of hard-edged blue, short chestnut hair, a true-blue kind of friend, high moraled and strong. Brad: Concerned eyes of hazel, sandy brown hair, a guy who'd had enough grief, who was good at heart, who was trying to change. Carlos: thick black eyes, like a cats but kind, thick black, longish hair, tanned complexion, almost a player, a womanizer, but not quite. Leon: caramel-coloured hair, cinnamon-coloured eyes, clean cut, a total law-abiding citizen, slightly gullible but sweet. Sherry: lemon hair, deep aqua eyes, smart but quiet, always playing the part of a frightened child but much more than that inside. Then there was Claire herself: mahogany hair, cerulean eyes, resourceful, exuberant, Chris' little sister, like him in so many ways. That had been their team. She smiled gently, sinking back, eyelids heavy from weariness. She'd been going non-stop for about two days, ignoring the brief nap in the cathedral.  
  
Sherry was sitting next to Carlos, eyes heavy not with sleep but sorrow, tears sparkling before they fell softly down her face. Carlos was running his hands through his hair, too tired to care about whether they'd make it out of the city with time to spare.   
  
Jill sat next to Brad, staring sadly straight ahead, both of them. But suddenly she turned to him and asked him something lowly. He shrugged and she sighed. Then she put one hand on his arm.  
  
Claire didn't notice. She had slumped over and her head was leaning on Leon's shoulder. She was already in slumber, eyes closed and breathing still. Leon made no move to disturb her; she must be worn out, and she was really warm...he made every effort to hold his own eyes open, but couldn't. Even asleep his thoughts turned to Ada. Ada....  
  
  
Jill shook her head to shake the sleep from it. She looked next to her. Brad looked like he was asleep. So did the others in the chopper. Sherry was laying against the back 'copter wall, Carlos against the side wall. Claire's head was resting on Leon's shoulder, but his eyes were closed as well. She smiled, stifling a small giggle. Then she turned back to Brad. "Brad, hey Brad," she said, shaking his shoulder lightly. "W...What?" he said groggily, looking at her while he rubbed his eyes. "Let's talk to Barry. And-shhh," she said, motioning to the stilled forms around them. He nodded and helped her up a little.  
  
The cockpit door was closed at this point, but Jill silently tugged it open and stepped inside the tiny piloting space quickly. "Thanks," she said to Barry, who waved at her as he maneuvered the chopper. "No problem, you guys," he said. Brad sat down in the co-pilot's seat, and Jill leaned on both seat backs. "I guess it's all gone...Raccoon," Jill said quietly. "Yes," said Barry. "You missed one big-ass light show, kids." Jill sighed, then lifted up her leg and took something folded out of her boot. "What's that?" Brad asked.   
  
She un-crinkled the glossy papers and both Barry and Brad's eyes widened. It was the S.T.A.R.S. Team photo. Everyone, besides Becca, who hadn't joined yet. Some other polaroids were mixed in too, pictures of the S.T.A.R.S. early days or of them hanging out together. First joined, different uniforms, new offices-it was all there. Their history. Jill smiled wistfully. "I couldn't leave them. It's who we are." The other two nodded.  
  
Suddenly the radio crackled again. It was a government broadcast. All three listened as the newscaster's top news story, which was, of course, the nuclear strike on Raccoon. "The President and Congress planned and executed the destruction Raccoon City, which has been literally wiped off the map. More than a hundred thousand casualties are expected. Our hearts go out to the citizens... of Raccoon City."  
  
Jill reached out her hand so that both Brad and Barry could see it. "S.T.A.R.S." she said. "S.T.A.R.S." said Brad, putting his hand on top of hers, than Barry gave a "S.T.A.R.S." and did the same.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
~Fin~ 


End file.
